Wire and Steel
by MsLanna
Summary: After Tera has been saved, there is one thing first and foremost on her mind: stopping the fast ageing of the clones, including her very own Kom'rk. But it would be a miracle if she was allowed to concentrate only on that with the way things stand for Clan Skirata.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note**_: This is the sequel to Whispers of Wire. If you didn't read that, this might all be Greek to you. Λυπαμαι. Any Mando'a will be translated at the end of the chapter. I also apologise for not knowing the first thing about genetics. Ni ceta.

* * *

I stand under the shower, pouring hot water over my body to cleanse it. Because of the crimson that still clung to my skin when I had washed off all bits of blood and brains with soap and water; washed it down the drain and followed it with clear, warm water and I still feel the scum of the galaxy cling to me.

I stand there for ages, I feel like I took all the hot water Mandalore could ever produce, but the feeling of freshness and newness, of being clean, didn't come. I close my eyes and lay my head back, opening my mouth to catch the water with it.

A thin, almost invisible layer of translucent whatever covers the cuts and scars all over me. I feel pinkish, itchy, but not sore. They brought a whole ER with them on the small ship. The thoughtfulness touches me. I had been in stasis, artificial coma, on my way home. Mij said it was better for me and helped to speed up the healing. Strange to think about it. The last thing I remember is Kom'rk taking the blaster from my hand, kissing my head and suddenly I wake up in a place I had lost any hope to ever see again.

Kyrimorut.

I know it by the smell of the air, the look of the ceiling, the smile on Kom'rk's face. Home. The muffled sounds of many people come from behind the closed door. I have too many questions, but my one certainty is sitting on the bedside smiling. First things first.

"How do you feel?"

Disregarding his hand against my face which makes me feel all tingly in a way not connected to healing bruises and cuts, I didn't even know. I try to move and manage well enough. I close my eyes and inhale deeply. "Filthy," I finally say.

And so I end up under the shower. It's delicious. The bacta keeping me together can't be washed off with any amount of soap. The grey bulge on my collarbone had been replaced with something more subtle in white. It makes a hollow sound when I knock on it. I take inventory and all my bits seem to be still in place, including teeth. Nothing irreplaceable gone. Good.

Kom'rk comes in to see what takes me so long. He loves me. He worries for me. His eyes are almost black, but I can only smile helplessly. I wonder what he sees. Invisible filth that won't let go off me is not explicable. But he doesn't say that my metaphor is not making sense in the dimensions of reality. Instead he gets more soap.

I love him. I wonder what I did to deserve him. You might say that I suffered enough to deserve somebody like him, but the equation doesn't come out even because he suffered at least as much as I did, and look what he got for that.

Then we run out of warm water. With a squeak I jump into Kom'rk's arms who manages to hold me close and shut down the water at the same time. I love him. A voice is shouting through walls and closed doors. Kal. _Ba'vodu!_ I must really have been bereaving the whole place off warm water. I cling to Kom'rk and can't wait to see Kal again and there is at least a drizzle of warm water left that slowly trickles down my face. Kom'rk wipes it away.

I find myself wrapped up in towels, warm, dry, safe and almost ready to fall asleep again if only I could rest my face against Kom'rk's shoulder. I feel the urge to babble but there are no words, nothing to wrap other people's heads around what I want to communicate. I keep repeating his name. I keep telling him I love him. I keep running the back of my hand over my eyes but it is not much help.

"You'll feel better when you had something to eat, _cyar'ika_." His certainty engulfs me and I wonder how my world would look like if I didn't have him to rely on now.

_You'd have Kal,_ a small voice says. _He's done this before. He'd save you again._ I close my hand into a fist, trapping some of Kom'rk's shirt in it. This is better. Much better. I put on boots and straighten down my hair.

"Presentable?" I ask Kom'rk.

He nods, smiling daggers. I take his hand before I dare open the door. I have not been here for so long. It is _yaim_, but also full of strangers. And Kal. My breath hitches at the prospect of seeing him again. Be my research done for or not. I can start over. I can do anything. I squeeze Kom'rk's hand, as I close my eyes and when open them again he is still there.

Behind the door it's coordinated chaos. It has to be. Nobody misses a beat when we step out into the main room. There is a big dining table now, made from a single piece of light wood. Kal gets up as he sees me. He looks older, so much older. Still, a few years seem to fall off him as I hug him tightly.

"_Ba'vodu! Gar olaro par ni. Tug'yc._" I am about to cry again.

"_Ratiin_." The word seems to break apart as soon as it left his lips.

I don't want to let go off him but he pries me away gently anyway. His thumb moves over my lower lip and comes away bloody. I smile embarrassed. Making a mess again. Very me. I'm about to apologise when Kom'rk breezes in and abducts me to the kitchen.

"_Gar. Skraan. Jii._" You cannot argue with the voice of reason.

The kitchen is full of people I don't know. But that will have to wait. A full plate is put before me and I know the only way to get away from the table again is to empty it. After the first bite, I realise how hungry I am. I have seconds of everything.

.

.

* * *

_cyar'ika - _darling

_yaim - _home

_Ba'vodu! Gar olaro par ni. Tug'yc._ - Uncle! You came for me. Again.

_Ratiin_. - Always.

_Gar. Skraan. Jii._ - You. Food. Now.


	2. Chapter 2

People come and go while I eat and Kom'rk gives me a running commentary. The Twi'lek is Laseema, the wife of Atin who is the brother of Fi who married Parja who's mother was a Cuy'val Dar with Kal on Kamino just like Vau who doesn't appear in person but the smell of his strill can't be gotten out of the place. I can't smell it. I maybe the state my nose is in which is not pretty, but Kom'rk says it affect males more than females which is why Ny is close to the animal and also to Kal and at that moment I have to blink repeatedly.

There are so many people and so many of them look the same. It's bewildering, walking through a half-foreign home and I seeing so many of them together for the first time, Kom'rk's brothers and the commandos and some normal clones and they are all the same, only they are not. I hold on to Kom'rk until Mereel snatches me from his grip and whirls me around.

"_Olarom, vod'ika_! I can see my _di'kut_ of a brother has not been taking good care of you." He puts me down and scrutinises my state. "Sorry about not grabbing your job when I had the chance."

I smile and know what he is not saying. And I have a brother. More than one if I can trust my eyes, which I might have to start doing again because whenever I close them and open them again Kom'rk is still there and so is Kyrimorut. I don't know how to feel. I have never had much of a family. Jan and Erina were a parent-only gig. I miss them suddenly. But I keep upright, leaning my back against Kom'rk.

"You'll get used to it," he says into my ear.

I can't remember living among so many people. It all seems impossibly close.

„We have a lab right here now. No need to go running all over the galaxy anymore." Mereel grins. "It's already a little occupied, but I think you'll get along alright."

I follow him down a corridor and around a few bends. The faint smell of disinfectants catches my attention. They are definitely still working on the genome. I feel bad for feeling happy that I can still contribute. I can still do my part. I don't get as far as to wonder about what I will do afterwards because the door opens to reveal a Kaminoan of all things.

I am stuck in the door frame, staring and the long neck that turns gently to look at me. Kaminoan alright. Top of the tops in cloning and bioengineering. Kal hit the full jackpot! For the first time since Kom'rk called me their last hope, I actually feel like hope again. This might just work out.

And then I can see the woman approaching from behind the Kaminoan and my breath hitches again. Whatever Kal and Kom'rk did when they rescued me, they certainly turned the whole galaxy upside down and made everything bad come untrue. It's Qail.

For the first time in my life I actually jump at somebody for a hug. She looks confused. I grin and almost bounce and am just so happy to have her back. "It's me, Tera. You remember? We worked together. I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Hello Tera." She looks around cautiously. "How did they get you?"

I had expected more of a reaction. But there is something going on here I know nothing about. She is eyeing Mereel strangely, as if she expected him to become somebody else who would handle things better. I don't get it.

So I tilt my head and grin. "After the Death Watch ravaged my laboratory," she inhales sharply at that, "they started looking for me and when Reau taunted Kom'rk after Mij killed Priest the Death Watch definitely had a big angry problem. Broke me out only a few days ago. Been in stasis during transit. Just got up."

I'm blabbering, but I don't know what else to do.

"Oh." I am not sure how to take that but it is all she offers.

"What are you doing here?" I have never been the social one. I guess it shows, but there is one topic we can surely talk about.

"Researching the accelerated ageing." She indicated the Kaminoan. "Kina Ha here is kind enough to help with the problem as well.

"Great!" What I always wanted. Us two together agai, working on a spectacular project. And now with a free Kaminoan top notch scientist as bonus. It's incredible. "I was trying to contact you because of it. It's a huge bother, I tell you. Did Mereel show you my stuff? What do you think? How did they get your name?"

"I was commissioned to create a virus targeting and killing clones."

"But that's," I stumble, "almost impossible. How would you go about sequencing the DNA into parts that check out just to separate them from other humans? And there are alterations on Commandos and ARCs and-" I break off. "Oh."

Judging from the way everybody looks at me funny, I am probably lucky Kal is not around. "Oh. Well." I scratch my head. "How did it go?"

"I didn't finish," she says.

"Well, that's okay then." I can't keep my enthusiasm down. Everybody I ever knew and cared for is here, except for the dead. Kal created not only a haven; it feels like heaven to me. "And you know about the genome already. This is going to be such a fun challenge. What are you doing right now?"

With the knowledge of the FG-36 virus a whole new silence fills the lab. Mereel has vanished and taken Kom'rk with him, leaving us girls to talk shop. Only this isn't the shop I ever set up. I look at Qail but she doesn't look any different than before. She cut her hair somewhere along the way, but it it is still streaked with red. She still holds herself like a queen. She had been engineering death for the last years and now it had struck.

I feel bad. A whole planet wiped out and all I can think is: thank heaven it wasn't the killer virus for the clones. My clones. My clone. If Kom'rk had been still in the room, I am not sure I'd have let go of him again for quite a while.

"I wanted to wipe out Coruscant," Qail says quietly. "It was what I was really working on for a while. Didn't tell them, not even Mij." Mij. Mij in his golden armour who had put plastoid and bacta all over me. "He's a good man," Qail adds and doesn't sound like my old Qail at all anymore. But she also doesn't sound like a woman that wants to wipe out Coruscant any longer, so I'll take it.

"Qail..."

"It's okay. I was so angry. I was – I have adapted." She shrugs. "It's not so bad here."

Mij pokes his head in and I realise that things are really not that bad for Qail by the way he looks at her. You don't stay alone if you stick with Kal it seems. "We were nicely viral when we rescued her," Mij says. "Not that it helped the lousy _shabuire_ who held her on grounds of them suddenly being all very dead, but Ter'ika is fine as the rest of us."

_Immunogen_, Qail mouths. I feel much better knowing she spent the time one something constructive and that she shared it with my clan. We will live.

"And your place in all this?" I look up at the grey figure keeping in the background.

.

.

.

* * *

_Olarom, vod'ika_! - Welcome, little sister!


	3. Chapter 3

3)

It is all a bit much to take in. One moment I am working my _shebs_ off all on my own in a laboratory on a pimple of a planet, and the next moment I am surrounded by top-notch colleagues. Skipping over the ugly bit of being captured and tortured. But I don't want to linger on that. Whenever I think about it, my head goes on an automated search for Kom'rk. And even within the safe confines of Kyrimorut, my heartbeat speeds up if I cannot see him. I guess I'll get over it eventually.

Kina Ha is not really a trained bioengineer. But she is older than time itself and knows more about anything than I will ever be able to forget in several lifetimes. She lets us tinker with her genome. I am taken aback, but there is something ultimately kind about her. She is also teaching Scout who has a long name including eastern hazes. Qail shows her how to be a scientist and Kina Ha shows her how to be a Jedi. Something like that. It will take some time to get to the bottom of all the arrangements here.

The lab is great. For a place like Kyrimorut, that is. There's a complete biohazard chamber, capacity for freezing, unfreezing and storing specimen of any kind. You wouldn't expect that in the deepest outback of this backwater planet under a layer of snow and dead leaves. I can't wait to get to work, but Qail won't have any of it.

"I'll need to brief you thoroughly. You enter the project at a critical phase and we can't afford failure." She looks at me knowing I have even more to lose than her. So I agree and leave reluctantly. There is no time to lose and I have lost so much already. It doesn't seem right.

I make it almost to the _karyai_ when I suddenly stumble over a mess of golden fur in folds. Before I meet the ground abruptly, an arm shoots out to catch me, managing to avoid the set collarbone. I can't even fathom how that works.

"You'd want to be careful there." The voice is smooth and cold as marble. It belongs to a tall man in black who I identify, tentatively due to the lack of armour, as Walon Vau.

"Thank you." I smile. I am about to ask him if – when I realise that the furry folds are actually a living animal that is rubbing against my legs like a cat. It is also drooling copiously which makes this a rather damp experience. I crouch down to remove it from myself, but only end up facing a huge, slobbering face. It might be grinning, but there's too many teeth to be sure

For a moment I am afraid it'll just pounce and do – whatever it is it does to things. Suffocation doesn't seem all that unlikely.

"Mird." It's definitely an order. The animal sits down on his haunches. Though it doesn't stop watching me from sharp golden eyes.

"Thank you again," I venture a smile up at Vau. It is somewhat disconcerting to see golden eyes similar to those of the animal look back at me. "What is it?"

"_He_ is a strill," Vau replies with a frown. "They are hunting animals and he doesn't usually do this."

I am not sure how much of a comfort that is but it does explain the teeth. I am tempted to scratch Mird behind the ears to show some goodwill, but there's the matter of his face, including the gaping mouth full of aforementioned teeth, between my hand and his ears. Mird conveniently solves the problem by lying down completely and putting his head on his front paws.

"Is he sick?" I finally dare to scratch the fur which is surprisingly soft.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because he smells." It was a pungent smell as if something had gotten lost in the folds of fur and started turning into a new life form, or maybe several.

"That is normal." The marble voice turned into something icy.

The strill rumbles like an avalanche of bees. Slobber pools on the floor and I wonder if _ba'vodu_ will mind. But then the animal has likely been living here longer than me so he'd know about that. "I think he likes me."

My hands will surely smell horribly after this, but it is droll to see the predator reduced to a happy purr. Maybe I will like him after all. I shoot a glance upwards. Vau does not look too unhappy. But he is not quite smiling either. I am not sure if it is directed at Mird or me.

"If you would kindly obstruct some other place." Mij looks definitely indulgent. "Some people are trying to work in this house."

I get up and my hands flutter because I can't decide whether or not to wipe them on my trousers. "Qail kicked me out," I explain. "She said to at least have a look at everything before I hole myself up in the lab."

Mird follows Vau who leaves in the direction he came from. I watch them I wonder.

"Don't mind him," Mij says following my gaze. "He's not the social kind." The same words Kom'rk said. "But I am", he goes on, "which why I will keep Qail company while you explore the _vheh'yaim_."

He shoos me on. I pass Vau again on my way through the _karyai_, studying his pad with an intent I only know from splicing DNA. The frown on his forehead looks too solid to have appeared in the last few moments. I shake my head.

There is so much going on in Kyrimorut suddenly. Nuna and roba are kept and a young man called Cov is trying to make things work from manuals. His brothers help him. From what I know about clones, I wouldn't have thought they'd be interested in farming.

"Self-sufficiency," Cov says. "Makes us more untraceable than camouflage nets."

I understand about that in a way that makes me shiver. But he is right and why shouldn't a man bred to kill find pleasure in growing something for a change?

It is strange still. I can feel the tensions, the dark undercurrents of unhappy determination to right some wrongs. But I am afloat on something I cannot put a name on. I realise that two important men, Darman and Niner, are still missing and it grieves Kal. It breaks my heart to see him so torn. Sad and happy, sad again about being happy and because he couldn't make the world right for everybody. Saving me was not enough. Saving Atin and Fi was not enough. Saving Ordo and Prudii and Jaing and Kom'rk, A'denn and Mereel was not enough. Kal has to save everybody.

I wonder who will save him.


	4. Chapter 4

I open my sleep-crusted eyes against the bulk of Kom'rk. I am home.

And it might have been my nightmare or his that woke me, but it doesn't matter because he is here and I am here too.

Home.

Kom'rk says not to get too attached to the place because we might have to leave on a short notice. I have thrown my lot in with a group of wanted criminals. I am possibly a wanted criminal myself. In which case I better shape up to it.

It is not easy. Not because I am bent and broken, but because I feel I spend too much time away from the lab. I want to spend 24/7 there with Qail and the probes and cultures and chemical switches. But I also want to spend all my time clinging to Kom'rk just to know he's still there.

I want to save Kal but know I can't. It hurts and brings me back to spending more time in the lab. That would be one weight of his chest. It would mean a lot.

"_An jate_?" he asks as we meet and glances at my right shoulder.

I shrug to show how well I can use it again. The broken collarbone heals perfectly fine. "_Ori'jate_." I grin and hope he knows how happy I am. And I wish I had more to show for all the time I spend in the lab. But it is a disappointment I know.

"Tell Kom'ika to take it easy with the combat training."

I smile. The day Kom'rk takes it easy has yet to be invented. But he is gentle. And I know how to fight when in pain. It will be very useful. Still I nod because it is important to him. Ba'vodu, _what is plaguing you? _Does he know he is surrounded by people who would give their right arm to alleviate his worries? And how much of that willingness could he accept without plunging into the next ravine of guilt?

"I will, _ba'vodu_." I know I could call him _buir_ like the others. Not only because of Kom'rk. But he has always been my _ba'vodu_ and holds a special place I don't even have words for. I hope he knows. I know I couldn't hope to explain it.

We're all possessively protective at Kyrimorut and that brings a whole different helplessness with it. But we handle it because what else can we do? Kom'rk's brothers come and go and it is strange to think they might not come back. It is an impossible thought in the face of their abilities but also the consequences of it. So I do not think it.

Instead I think of how long it would have taken me to identify the sequences the Kaminoans changed and how grateful we can be that that other Kaminoan, identified them before she killed herself. I can't think why anybody would want to do this in Kyrimorut. We're admittedly a motley group. Even Jedi, though Kal wants them gone. Even Kina Ha.

I think Scout will stay. Qail is fond of her and so is Mij. They are a strange family but it seems to be working for them. I wonder when I will get around to being a small family with Kom'rk. It's definitely something I want. There's no hurry, though. There is already so much family.

Kad stares at me with dark eyes. He can use the Force and Jusik teaches him. I wonder how he can be so small and still so complete. My past experience with children is academic. I think about making my future experience with them more hands-on. But not yet. There will be time. I will make time. And if it is the last thing I do.

And as I watch I also feel watched but I can never quite catch Vau look at me. Still I can barely turn without noticing him somewhere around. Something is going through his mind. And it is not about Zey who is a Jedi and a general and who Kal is obviously unhappy about having here.

And it is not about Kina Ha who is Kaminoan _and_ a Jedi and as such predestined to be disliked by everybody present, only she is not really. And it is not about Niner and Dar, though something about that issue does not sit right with him.

It is funny watching him watching me watching him and so on. Sometimes I just want to ask him what it is. But then I don't. Maybe it is selfish, but I want to work out my own problems first. At least a little.

.

.

.

* * *

An jate? - Everything okay?

Ori'jate. - Excellent


	5. Chapter 5

"It's not the sequencing that's the problem," Qail shows me the charts. "The Kaminoans have done a perfect job on that and Ko Sai kept meticulous records."

I stare in appreciation. Sequencing takes ages, it is the foundation of any change and I feel heady about having the groundwork laid out all nice.

"They didn't use selectable markers, though," Qail's lightpen taps onto the display at several places. "Here, here and there. We know those genes are altered, but they did not _mark_ any of the changes."

Now that is just bad science. I feel her exasperation and share it. How can you do anything without proper documentation? And why the frell didn't the shabla aiwha-bait keep a log of the original material as well? Professional pride? I curse under my breath. We have all this information and still some relevant bits are not among it.

"What about the chemical switches you mentioned?"

"A dead end so far." Qail sounds tired. As if she had been over this too often already and never found the answers she was looking for. "I'm looking into zinc finger transcription, but that is probably just going to be a temporal solution if any."

I look at our arsenal which is impressive. If only we had something to target already. I return to my own screen. The answer is in there somewhere. I call up my last sequences. It would have been so much easier if we had different alleles for the relevant foci. I stare at the screen.

But then we do have them, don't we? In a horribly limited way, but still. Kal will not like this. But we have to try. And I think Kad would understand. "What happened to the cells from Etain's umbilical cord?" I ask Qail.

She winces but she gets my drift. "I think Ko Sai let them go rotten to keep others from playing with them."

I close my eyes and pinch my nose. "I'll ask Kal."

"He won't like it."

"I know." I put a smile on for Qail. "But he knows what is at stake and we're not talking about spinal marrow or cerebrospinal fluid." Yet. Never tell Kal about that. Not until it is really, really inevitable.

I go looking for Kal. Of course I find Vau instead, Mird curled up at his feet as the angular man takes apart one of the omnipresent guns for cleaning. I wonder if I should break his concentration to ask. But he notices me anyway. As he looks up, he tilts his head as a question.

I don't know why that is funny. I try not to laugh too much.

"And which part of our conversation is it exactly that is so funny?" he inquires.

"I'm sorry." I don't know what else to say. "It's just. Sometimes I think you remind me of somebody, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

He leans back." How much of your parents do you remember?"

I didn't expect that question. Talk about a punch in the guts. Still, I try to think back to a time before people in armour clogged my life. I try really hard, but there is nothing, not even blurry faces or voices. "Nothing," I finally admit.

He shrugs as if to say 'there you have it' and returns his attention to the gun. For a while I just stand there and watch.

"Kal has gone to Enceri with Cov and Ruu," Vau says without looking up. "He'll be back around dinner."

Now that is not the news I wanted. I want to talk to Kal now. I want to take blood samples now, get on with my work; now. But I cannot, not without his okay. I slump down on the bench at the far end and stare at my hands. This shouldn't shake me so bad. This should not even matter.

I take a deep breath and try to find out why I am falling apart. There's moments like that. Kom'rk says it will pass. Mij says to breathe regularly and deeply and find a safe place in my mind. Kal says to take it easy. Vau says nothing at all. Right now, I like that best.

The safe place in my mind is full of blackness. So I close my eyes against the light and try to remember how my face feels against the cool plates of Kom'rk's chest plates. Or the warm chest under those. My safe place is filled with images of Kom'rk and when things get really, really difficult his blood-splattered figure marches out of misty memory with a blaster in his hand. Everything is bloody, even the blaster in my hands, covered with blood and brains but they're not mine and I am safe.

My hands are wet. It is not blood though as I open my eyes. I feel better, I guess. My heartbeat has slowed down again. I breathe and my head is not pounding. Time is not running out. I will make it. We will all make it. I inhale sharply, trying to clear my nose at the same time. Something wet is still happening to my hands.

As I look down, I see a grey tongue flicking over them. It takes me a while to realise that the tongue is attached to Mird. He's making a low growling noise, staring at me intently. Then his tongue licks over my hands again. It's probably the salt, I assume.

"Thank you." I scratch his head and the growl turns into a rumble. From the corner of my eye I see Vau watching. Compared to his usual scowl that unguarded look might almost pass for a smile. Whatever else he is hiding, I'm pretty sure he likes me. I rub Mird between the eyes with a thumb. It doesn't look like a mystery that calls for immediate solving. I can live with people liking me. I guess.

Finally I look up. Vau is concentrated on the weapon again. I get up and fight Mird down who is not happy about the withdrawal of attention. "I guess it'll have to wait then," I say out loud. I get a non-committal reply, if the half snort counts as that.

I trudge off in search of Kom'rk.


	6. Chapter 6

Kal is not even mad. He just sits in silence looking at me.

"I'm sorry." I can't fight the urge to apologise. "I know it's not my place to ask for anything, _ba'vodu_. I am sorry. _N'eparavu takisit._"

"No." He shakes his head. "We should have thought about that sooner." Still he looks unhappy. I wish I didn't do that to him whenever I open my mouth.

"_Ba'vodu, gar ven'rejorhaa'i meg ni ori'suumyc, gedet'ye?_" This will always be the language of anguish and exhilaration for me. Sometimes it hurts to speak. "_Kar'tayli ni nu'gana naasad_-"

"_K'uur,_" he interrupts me. "_An jate_." But he gets up and leaves still looking hurt.

Why do I always end up doing this? What am I doing wrong?

Kom'rk has no answer but at least he holds me tight.

"I'll be back soon," he promises. "It's just a short recce."

I nod and don't want to let go of him. But he can't stay here because of me and I am enough of a burden to Kal already without tying down one of his sons. So I let go of the linchpin of my life. He will be back. I have to believe it.

And I do. I cannot do anything else because if I don't believe, I fall apart. My hand lingers on his chest plate. Not black, but grey because he likes the colour and blue because it is who he is. I wonder if I need colours of my own. The last he sees is my smile because I'd be damned to let him go off with me sad and possibly the last he ever saw me.

I wander back into the house, still thinking about my colours. Black would be nice because black conquered crimson. Or orange because I have my own life now and nobody can take it away. I could try red, but I call him _ba'vodu_ so I am not sure it makes sense. Anyway I don't like red.

Kal still looks preoccupied and I wish I had never breached the subject of Kad. I don't know how to heal the breach I didn't mean to cause. He brought something from Enceri he doesn't like parting with. I am curious, but I will not ask. I have asked enough for one day.

So I am surprised when he comes to me. "_Adi'ika._" He seems unsure how to go on.

But I am as well. So I just venture a hesitant 'yes' in reply.

"You do feel at home here, right?"

I blink. It is not what I expected. But I give it thought because he is genuinely concerned and he deserves deliberate consideration. The answer is an easy one, though.

"You are my family." I say and I mean it "Not just because of Kom'rk. You are my _ba'vodu,_ my-," I fish for words and all escape. "Without you I don't know where I would be. I don't know where I belong if not here."

I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, shout at him: _Do you understand? Don't you know how much you saved me? Don't you realise how much it means?_ But I don't even have words that make sense to myself, so how can I expect that from him?

"And you do belong here," he finally says almost under his breath. "You know that, right? Not just because of Kom'rk."

Is that it? The sorrow that is plaguing him? Is that fucking _all_?

"I will never, never question it again, _ba'vodu_." Now I actually have him by both shoulders. "I promise. _Haat, ijaa, haa'it_! This is my home, where I belong. This is _it_!"

For a short moment he leans his forehead against mine. "_Jate, ad'ika. Kar'tayli._" Then he pulls back as if something had just struck him.

"I got you something." He seems almost apologetic. I love him, but I can't say I understand him very well. "Something you should have."

I would never think about arguing, so I just take the thing wrapped in an oiled cloth. "Thank you."

"I didn't buy it Enceri." Instead of appeasing my curiosity I wonder what it might be and where from as I carefully peel back the cloth. It is a wonderful knife, beautiful. I turn it over in my hands. It is perfectly balanced. Good care has been taken of it. I look at Kal questioningly.

"I asked Vau for it." He makes a derisive noise. "_Di'kut_ wouldn't hear about giving it to you himself."

Of course he wouldn't. Vau is tough. Vau feels nothing for nobody. Vau is above all this family fuss. I have to smile because he is completely fine the way he is.

"The Death Watch member who was after you the day we saved you threw it at you," Kal goes on. "Vau picked it out of your back, revealing - well, you know the rest."

I look at it with new eyes and my fingers close around the hilt. It is a good gift. I owe Vau a lot. But I hug Kal because he is a sucker for family stuff and so am I. "_Ori'vor'e, ba'vodu._"

He pats my back. I hope that this will be the end of the awkwardness between us. Even if I have to force myself to feel I have a right to be here and make demands. It is difficult to derive any right for anything coming from where I have been. But if it makes Kal happy, I will.

I pull back brandishing my new knife. "I own myself," I let him know. "Past, present _and_ future." Judging from his smile, I have finally found some right words.

Now I have two knives. The one I took from the woman called Isabet Reau and the one Vau picked from my back on the day they saved me. I guess I will put the first into my boot for emergencies; the knife of my last resort. The other knife, though, I run my fingers softly along the flat side of the blade, this knife I want close where I can use it. _Ba'vodu_ has his knife against his forearm. I think that is a good idea.

.

.

.

* * *

.

_N'eparavu takisit – _I am sorry

_Ba'vodu, gar ven'rejorhaa'i meg ni ori'suumyc, gedet'ye. - _Uncle, you will let me know if I go too far, please.

_Kar'tayli ni nu'gana naasad – _I know I have nothing-

_K'uur. An jate. -_ Hush. It's alright.

_Haat, ijaa, haa'it - _Truth, honor, vision; words used to seal a pact.

_Jate, ad'ika. Kar'tayli. - _Good, child. I know.

_Ori'vor'e, ba'vodu. -_ Thank you very much, uncle.


	7. Walon Vau: A Knife to the Heart

He wants something. I have no idea what it might be, but he looks determined and he expects resistance. So it's one of his quests again. I cross my arms before me and look down at him. It does no good to underestimate him in a fight because of his stature, but every now and then I enjoy the fact that I can simply look down on him _that way _should it suit me.

Predictably enough he bristles. The old habits fall into place easily and we prepare to fight. But we changed to words. For that I have reasons he can't even begin to fathom and I want to keep it like that.

"What is it now?" My tone is challenging. There is no reason to make it easy on him. Though I might because I feel magnanimous after the rescue of my kid. Not that he knows. Not that any of them know. And I want to keep it like this, too. At least for a while.

"I want you to part with one of your knives." Straight and to the point. So this is important to him.

For a moment I consider taunting him, but the way he holds himself tells me that he might just explode. He's always been so bloody see-through. "Give me reasons," I demand instead. He will have to have some pretty good ones. My kit is exquisite.

He looks around, almost as if checking if somebody is listening in. "The black throwing knife," he elaborates. "The one you appropriated one the raid when I saved Tera."

Oh, so it was 'I' now. Not that I had much of a hand in this rescue, but had I not taken the knife - ah. So this is it. He really is a sentimental old _di'kut_. This will be fun. "It's one of my best," I object and for the first time it feels difficult to keep up the façade. I want to double over laughing. "What do you want with it?"

He takes a moment to think. I have to give him credit for not just grabbing the front of my shirt and trying to shake me. He wants to phrase it in a way that I understand how important this is, not for him but for Tera. I wonder what he'd do if he knew I had already agreed. Not that this ain't more fun all the way.

"You have seen the state Tera was in," he begins. I have indeed and I did have some misgivings about seeing it only so late and having killed so fast beforehand. A mistake no doubt. "She will be okay in a bit and shooting Gedyc seems to have helped, too. But she still has nothing to let her own her past."

I keep looking at Kal in a cold, disinterested way, challenging him to tell me what that had to do with me and one of my best knives. But he can have it for Tera any day. Only that he doesn't know. This is my idea of fun.

"It belonged to that -" he has to take a calming breath, "_hut'uun_ who owned her. You saw him throwing it after her."

I nod. "It's a perfectly balanced throwing knife," I admit out loud. Kal bristles again, it takes him a lot of self-control not to lash out. He is really serious about this, bless is soft black heart.

"She has overcome so much of her past," his voice is suddenly soft. Seems he adopted her into the flock already. And without asking me. Huh. "I want her to be able to conquer all of it." Kal looks up all serious. "Please." Now that one's under the belt. "I am not asking you give it to her, just tell me what you want for it."

That shouldn't hurt. But it does. Of course he's right. I can't just walk up to Tera and give her the knife for being such a cute little niece. Cut up little niece, more like. My lips press into a thin line and Kal takes it all wrong. If it wasn't so serious, I'd really laugh now.

"It's okay," I just say. "I understand, but you owe me one." His face mirrors perfect surprise. And he doesn't even know that it is the one favour I don't ever intend to collect.

* * *

There she is, standing in the door as if lost, determination only in her eyes. She knows what she wants to do, but there is something holding her back. Then she looks up at me and a smile lights up her whole face. Wish Sheena was here to see that. She has such a beautiful daughter, strong too and impossibly endearing. Guess I _am_ going soft on my old days.

She takes a few steps into my room, looking around as if she expects to be thrown out. And still here she is. "Come in or stay out, but don't slink around like that." My voice is surprisingly gruff.

She stops in her tracks, tilts her head to the side and nods to herself. Does she know she has that from her mother? I don't think so. She doesn't remember her mother. She doesn't remember anything at all. Sometimes it is a real pity that you can kill people only once. She deserves better.

She holds the knife out, presenting it. Her face is a mess but she walks as if she doesn't know. No, she walks knowing it's not important. I am tempted to smile, maybe it shows.

She beams and grins and looks from my face to the knife and back. Her mouth is working as if she is sorting through the words and none fit. She's never good with words when things get emotional. I wonder what kind of Mando'a she's going to spit out.

Maybe I am really not good at hiding my amusement at all because she nods again, coming to a decision and her eyes are soft.

"Ori'vor'e," she says. "For everything."

I shrug it off, but she doesn't seem to mind. She bows slightly and turns to leave. It doesn't matter because we both understand. I smile to myself.

And then she turns around like lightning, grinning right back at me, putting a finger over her lips, winking. She knows alright.

And I realise that it is okay. Maybe some day I will tell her the reason. I should. I think, I really should.

Some day.


	8. Chapter 7

Of course, when you need him, Walon Vau is difficult to find. I weigh the knife in my hand. It is black against my skin, shiny as if it had never been used before. But if I concentrate hard I can see the knife back in the times before Kal was a factor in my life. I can see the blood on it which was mine and other dirt.

It is all shiny now, as if made new. Walon Vau is meticulous with his kit; I will take that as an example for me. I will be meticulous myself. I will be of the right colours and not a liability to my clan. I will hide the pain of not quite being an asset. I will make it. I have to believe. I pass the door behind which Arla hides. She doesn't venture out much. She is like me, only without Kom'rk.

I poke my head into her room. She sits on her bed, knees pulled up under her chin looking at nothing. When I greet her, she looks at me but her eyes are empty. Jusik tried to help her but she is broken. I understand about that.

Sometimes I sit with her. When the pains build up and the past descends on the present. I know she understands. She is in the same place I was once. All she needs is a _ba'vodu_ and a Kom'rk of her own to make things right. I keep telling her that, but of course she doesn't believe. I would not have believed it myself.

But Jusik says she'll become better so I act as if she will be better one day. So I talk to her in basic and I talk to her in Mando'a and neither language can hold the experiences we don't share and can't forget. I don't know if it helps her. But it helps me and that has to count for something.

Jusik is away with Kom'rk. Something about the Jedi so it makes sense the Jusik is involved. I am still not sure if we approve of Jedi or want to kill them. I am not sure Kal is sure either. At least it is one problem I don't have to solve. Unlike the one waiting in the lab. I circuit the karyai again but there's juts Besany playing with Kad and Cov watching from a distance deep in thought.

So I go up Vau's door. There I fidget. I don't think I have ever knocked on anybody's door in Kyrimorut before. Even I spend most of my time in common rooms, the karyai, the lab, the kitchen even the training grounds. Rooms are for privacy. I don't know if I want to disturb.

But the hilt of the knife burns in my palm. What is the worst that can happen? I ask myself. I should not because my mind has many, many ideas of things that can happen and are less than pleasant. No. I shake my head. I am grateful and I want to tell him. Regardless of whether or not he wants to know.

So I knock. And as I wait I stop fidgeting which is very difficult.

Vau opens the door and half raises a brow. I try to smile with more confidence I have and he returns to whatever he was doing. Mird raises his head and blinks lazily in my direction before discarding me as uninteresting.

I have to focus on what I was going to do here. I bring up the knife between us as much so I can look at it as showing him the reason for intrusion. And he does not glower, so it's probably fine.

"_Ori'vor'e,_" I get out. "For everything." I mean it, too.

There's a half-hearted shrug in reply. I keep smiling because it's better than falling apart. And I think he is also smiling; to himself, very, very silently.

I bow slightly and turn to leave. But I cannot resist and turn back, and I do catch the smile I hoped to find. Putting a finger over my lips I wink. No word. Vau is tough and family stuff is for soft _di'kute_ like Kal.

Soft _di'kute_ and beat up scientists with nowhere to go. But I feel better now, really good actually and ready to return to Qail. We're almost doing overlapping shifts so we can get more done. Kina Ha pitches in as well so the sequencing goes faster. So does Mereel. We don't even bother with the parts we don't need. The genome may be all very exciting but we have no time to play around.

So we don't. Not that it helps much.


	9. Chapter 8

"There's definitely more to it than simple silencing," Qail sighs.

Kad's genome is spread out between us and we check on the deviations from our other DNAs. I wish Mereel was back, but he comes and goes as he must. And Jaing has designed the nifty little programme that sorts through all base-pairs and alerts us to any difference. It is still slow going.

"If they did have to make it polygenitc, why not even try to keep it autosomal or maybe even gonosomal."

"The sex chromosome is too small to hold all necessary variations," I reply on autopilot. "Of course it would have been nice." I look up. "With the samples from Kad we could have-" I sigh in frustration. "Shabla autosomal allele multiplicity."

"Is that a language I should be speaking?" Mij brings sandwiches and his unquenchable good mood.

"You should," Qail says without mercy. "Because in that case you'd actually be a help around here."

Mij contrives to look hurt. "I'll tell Mereel to take my place then. We men are so easily replaced." He sighs exaggerated and leaves, but not before kissing Qail.

I don't say that Mereel is away. Something big is being planned but all I could gather so far is that they plan to kill some Jedi. Not one of ours and not really, too.

"The less you know, the better for you," Kom'rk says.

I lean against him, my arms wrapped tightly around his frame that is bulky even without the armour. "I don't need to know," I murmur into his shirt. "Just be careful."

He cups the back of my head with a hand. "Almost the whole clan will be there."

Maybe that is the highest kind of security he can think of. Frowning, I can't think of anything better myself.

And they're almost all of them gone, even Vau and Fi and Ruu.

Qail and I are trying to do happy things. Sometimes we just have to do something that shows results.

"Not more than three steps, though," I say. Too much can go wrong and we want to keep it simple.

"Saturation, Silencing, Shot." She can pronounce capital letters.

We pore over reasonable timetables. Which is when the three clones turn up keeping a very unreasonable timetable. They strut into the house as if they own it. In a way they do.

"Welcome," I say and am ignored.

"Where is my son?" He doesn't even take off the helmet. His deecee is ready to fire. "Where are the Jedi?"

I look at Qail and she shrugs. "Laseema and Besany have taken Kad over to Rav Bralor's place because the nuna just hatched. They're not much prettier when they're small but he likes them. And the Jedi," I hesitate. "Jusik went with the others to kill some Jedi. Kina Ha and Zey went with them, so I guess they're included in that."

He lowers the deecee and I can see how the tension drains out of the other two. Maybe it is not the time to tell them that Scout is with Arla. Jusik has shown her how he helps Arla and Scout wants to do her best, even if she says she's not strong at all and it might just be that she's so small and un-threatening that calms Arla.

"So everybody is away?" The clone to his right asks. He sounds disappointed.

I nod. "Sorry. "But you can wait for them here, of course."

His eyes wander to Qail. "What is she doing here?"

"I, my angry friend, am working on the counteragent for you accelerated ageing." She crosses her arms before her. "And even though I have not forgotten Qiilura, I will live _cin vhetin_ if you can too."

He nods and suddenly all three pop the seals on their helmets. Three faces appear from under them, all the same and still each of them unique. "I am Darman, those are Niner and Rede."

We introduce ourselves politely and my host-mode kicks in. I offer something to eat and drink which no clone would ever turn down. "You want to comm Kal or Besany?"

He thinks about it chewing on a thick slice of roast nerf. Niner is watching everything as if he expects somebody to jump at them any second. Rede is suspiciously silent, but his eyes take in everything.

"I could go to Rav's place." He makes it a question, as if it hadn't even occurred to him yet.

"Sure." I nod. "There's speeders in the shed and it's really easy to find."

He eats in silence, thinking ferociously, judging by the lines rolling over his forehead. Finally he nods. "I will go."

Niner and Rede make it obvious that they will stay and not interfere with the reunion. I call Besany when Darman is out of the door. The whine of the speeder fades away and I look at the strangers.

"You will need rooms, right?"

.

.

.

* * *

_cin vhetin_ – fresh start, clean slate


	10. Chapter 9

Of course they do and I introduce Scout to them as we make a round through the house. Niner keeps asking about the current mission everybody is on. But I am on a strictly need-to-know basis and I don't need to know anything.

Rede wants to know why I don't comm Kal as I offered to Darman. He seems very eager to know everything there is to know. "I can't comm him in the middle of a battle," I reply. "He might get distracted and die. I'll drop them a note when you're all settled. And they won't be long so all's well. _Udesii, ner vod_."

The Mando's sits uneasy on him and I wonder what his memories are until I remember that he was not trained on Kamino. Which doesn't really explain why the Mando'a makes him uncomfortable.

Niner and Rede decide to share a room while Darman gets his own place. I guess we'll move Kad in with him later. Then I drop Kal a line. I don't know why I decide to write in Mando'a but Rede is making me nervous, looking over my shoulder.

_Ehn ad'ike, solus be val buir, yaimpa. _

We finish the tour of the compound as Damran returns. he is a different man. He is radiant. Kad is bouncing on his hip, babbling happily. Half of the words seem to be da-da and he can't keep his hands out of his father's face; his tiny, podgy finger crawl all over it. Besany and Laseema follow him, burdened with all the things you seem to need when travelling with a toddler. They look happy.

So we're actually all together as should be with the only drawback that most of the household is away. Darman's attention can't be distracted from Kad long. I try to talk to Niner and Rede instead. But Rede is all big-eyed silence and Niner is preoccupied. He misses his brothers. he is not happy about deserting. He is decidedly uncomfortable.

I curl up in an empty bed. The house is full of familiar strangers. Somehow it doesn't feel safe.

.

.

.

* * *

_Udesii, ner vod_. - Take it easy, brother.

_Ehn ad'ike, solus be val buir, yaimpa. - _Three children, one of them father, returned.


	11. Chapter 10

Niner aches to be useful. Playing with Kad is too much fun to count. Rede looks at the child as if it was about to sprout tentacles and attack him. His experience with them seems to be even more theoretical than mine. But Darman is inseparable from his son. They're outside playing. I don't know what to play with a toddler. I will be grateful to have such a big family to help me figure parenting out when the time comes.

But Niner is hovering around in the lab with Rede tagging behind like a shadow. Both look uncomfortable, but Niner tries to understand something of what we do. "So you cut out the wrong bits and replace them with right bits."

"That's the plan." Qail taps her pen against one of the screens. "The difficult bit is to find all sequences that need replacing and the correct sequences to replace them with."

"You don't have them?" He sound surprised.

"No," Qail grumbles. "Whatever Ko Sai did with the original material, she did not give us a copy."

"But we will get there," I promise.

"How can I help?" He looks lost.

"I don't know." I look at Qail but she shrugs as well. It's not as if Darman could generate- my thoughts grind to a halt and I look at Rede. "Do you want to help?"

"What can I do?" His eyes widen.

"You're a newer version." It sounds harsh but I don't know how to speak human about my science. "A look at your DNA might help understand the rapid ageing better. You have been grown very fast."

He looks scared and his face turns white. "Do I, how, …?" He stutters. "Needles?"

"Not necessarily," Qail tried to calm him down. "A blood sample would be best but anything with cells in it will do."

But he doesn't look calmed down at all. Actually, I think he's even more agitated. Cells fall off people all the time and they don't even notice.

"It's alright," she keeps trying. But every word just seems to upset him more. "We can work eith cells you shed-" she breaks off as a whine suddenly screeches through the rooms. We look at each other.

"Spaceship," Niner says frowning. "Ours I think."

There is a thump going through the air and hitting me in the stomach. Then the whine dwindles into silence.

"Darman?"

We run outside, but he is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Kad. Besany joins us and a moment later, Laseema appears. I think she is pale. It is difficult to say with her complexion.

"Kad's things are gone."

"All of them?" Besany asks.

"Most of them. Everything important. But why would he do that?" Laseema looks at us as if we have an answer. I really wish I could help him. Darman had seemed happy enough.

"he was ranting about the Jedi," Niner offers.

"But they are not here any longer," Besany replies. "Kal has just gotten rid of them."

"And what will he do when more come and ask for help?"

I have no answer to that and neither has anybody else. Rede is stepping from one foot to the other.

"I think, he would help them," I finally venture. "He's just no good at rejecting the lost."

We look at each other, but there is nothing to be done. Kal will be back soon. I don't want to face him. I lost him a son and grandson. I feel horrible. The others look no better. We don't even try to cast encouraging smiles around.

Instead we stumble back inside and disperse into silence. I am not even is shock, just empty. I stare into thin air and something rises from the back of my mind. Rede. He has been grown in two years. How does that even work? And how do you switch that off? Or will he just keep growing old like this, thirty with three, forty at four? I shiver and hug myself. I can't think of doing anything else until Kal returns. _Ba'vodu_, forgive me. Once again I messed up badly.


	12. Chapter 11

Kal doesn't shout. Kal doesn't scold. Kal doesn't get angry. He just sits down at the big table with his head in his hands. It is worse than anything. I cling to Kom'rk and bury my face against his chest.

There is a silence in Kyrimorut that should not be. Especially not, after they returned with a victory: all Jedi are officially dead. I do not ask what they are unofficially. But it does not matter. Not now.

I fight to keep my breath under control. Kom'rk holds me tightly. He know I'd drown if he didn't.

Of course, there is nobody really to blame. I was no alone and neither was Niner or Besany. We were all here and none of us thought to have an eye on Darman. We didn't think it necessary. We didn't think. And now each of us thinks for themselves and the same thing: it is my fault. I should have paid better attention. I should not have let this happen. And those of us who can, cling to their partner.

"We need to go looking for him."

It is not making any sense. It's a big galaxy. But nobody contradicts Kal because we all want _some_thing to do.

"He has a limited amount of fuel and places to go," he continues. "It's worth a shot."

"We'll work it out, _buir_." Ordo, of course. "But not now; it has been a long day. We all need rest."

The Nulls don't look as if they need rest at all, but that's not the point. Kal looks up and he also knows that it is not the point. He sighs and looks older than I have seen him for a while. We start to move away, leaving the painful silence behind. The last I see is Ny Vollen slowly walking towards Kal.

'What can I do?' I want to ask Kom'rk, but when I look at him I see a million things I can. The small creature of guilt is squashed in his firm grip though. We have only one lie. We cannot undo what has happened. And just because bad things happen that doesn't mean you're not supposed to enjoy the good ones.

I feel a little less desperate curled up against his body. But the guilt remains


	13. Chapter 12

When I get up, Kyrimorut is already a riot. Kal holds a war council in the karyai. I am not needed because I am battling tiny accumulations of atoms and elements. For a while I watch the dynamics play out. Kal trying everything to do anything. Vau as the voice of reason against which Kal can rage. The clones in various states of mediation.

When I am shooed out of the kitchen with seconds and thirds I remember something else. I cannot talk about it to Kal. Not even Kom'rk who is deeply involved in finding the balance between reason and desire. As my eyes wander over the assembly, only Vau catches them for a second. I am not sure what he does with them, though.

So I go back to the kitchen and bring a new drink for Rede who is engrossed in the goings-on. He doesn't even look up as I carry the empty glass away. He doesn't know it goes directly into the lab where Qail raises a brow but cannot object to my means. We need this data and this does not hurt him.

It takes a while to find usable cells and extract the data. We work in silence, both trying to make up for a mistake maybe not ours. But just because your head knows something, doesn't mean the heart will understand. So we concentrate and do the only thing we can think of that might alleviate our debt.

We allow ourselves a moment respite after feeding the DNA into Jaing's little programme.

"What if they just used something to speed up the mitosis and cytokinesis? What if they didn't do any magic on the genome at all?" She looks at the small box that hopefully holds all the answers.

I dare not reply. I don't want to jinx this. And I can't think of any way to feasibly speed up cell division to this rate and keep the developments intact. I don't want to think what the clones look like from the inside if the developments were messed with.

"We'll know tomorrow." I sigh and will the programme to work faster. But of course it can't. There are just too many base-pairs to be compared and we cannot rush the job.

I run into Vau when I venture into the kitchen. "What is it?"

I stare for a moment. I hadn't thought he'd- I don't even know what I expected. "It's Rede," I say softly. "He makes me nervous."

"Why?"

"I don't know." I look into unyielding eyes that make me yearn for a better explanation. "We asked him for a sample, because he's Centax grown, grown much faster. I think he refused and I don't know why."

"He has grown up in a medical environment where medical equipment has likely not left the best impression on him," Vau voices my own doubts.

"But hair falls off anyway," I say almost to myself. "Anything with cells will do for a start."

"And he objected to that?" There is a cold hardness in Vau's tone. I'm glad it is not directed at me.

"He certainly did not seem to want us thinking in that direction," I finally say.

"And you have asked him about it?"

I shake my head and feel my cheeks colour. "What if he really doesn't want to give any samples? What," I can barely think it, "what reason could he have for that?" And how would he react if he thought I was going to find out about it?

Vau just nods. "He has offered to be out of our way and stay here."

I try to read the subtext but come up dry or with things I don't want. I give up. "I'm sorry. I'm probably just-"

He puts a hand on my shoulder as he walk past me back into the karyai. "Keep an eye on him."

And he is gone leaving me with more doubts and fears than I had come with. He had not said I was seeing things. He had not even tried to tell me I was jumping at shadows. I really would have preferred that. But that's not who he is. And being who I am, I almost forget our drinks when I return to the lab. The programme keeps chewing patiently over Rede's DNA. I can only wait.


	14. Chapter 13

Everybody is going. Really everybody. Besany is adjusting the thigh holster for her blaster, Laseema looks determined even if not quite sure how to go about things while Scout is striding around in the melee with a serious face, her lightsaber at her belt. Niner keeps close to Atin and Fi. Still he looks somewhat lost between Laseema and Parja.

I envy them. They can go an appease their guilt by doing something however useless. We all know how big the chances are to find somebody who does not want to be found and has the whole galaxy to hide in. Even if he is as 'inexperienced' as Darman.

I do not cling to Kom'rk. he looks stunning all armoured up and ready to scrunch.

"_Jatne__'kara_." I kiss his gloved hand and he gently bounces his helmet off my skull.

"Be careful."

And then everybody piles out and the air thrums with the noise of engines fired up and ships streaking off into space. I wrap my arms around myself and look at Qail. She doesn't look any happier than me. Mij has gone as well.

"I'll see how Arla is," she says and goes to distract herself.

"What will you do?" I ask Rede. "Do you want to help in the lab? No needles involved."

He shies back. "I, I – don't know," he admits. "What do you need done?"

"You could jump over to Rav's and look that the roba and nuna are fed if you like." Qail has returned looking none the happier than when she had left. It seems Arla is not having a good day.

"How do you do that?" Rede looks intrigued.

"I have no idea," Qail says. "But Cov has a manual."

"I will do that." He nods with determination. "I know about manuals."

We watch him go and return to the lab. The silence echoes through it eerily.

"Did you check on the transcription factors of those pax genes?" Qail looks anxious.

I nod. "Yes. And no worries, they will be back in one piece soon. They're just flying about. And they seem to be working faster than normal," I add almost as an afterthought."

"So we add accelerated cytokinesis to our pile of problems, right?" Qail sighs. "I'd like to add something to our pile of solutions for a change. It is vanishingly small."

"Time to change that." We work in silence until the sound of Jaing's programme announcing its success pulls us from our displays. "You or me?" I ask Qail.

"Your idea, your honour," she replies.

I pull out the results and stare at them. I stare at them a little longer, but that doesn't help. I swallow had and give the flimsy to Qail. Her reaction mirrors mine.

"Impossible."

"It should be," I agree. "But either Jaing's programme isn't working," which neither of us believes, "or our friends is not from Centax at all."

"Why would he lie about that?" Qail's brow is trenched deeply.

"I have ideas, but I like none of them," I reply. "I'm going to make a call from the hall and you see if you can't arm up somehow, just in case."

Qail nods and I slip out of the lab. Rede is not back yet, but who knows how long that will hold. I punch Kom'rk's comm because I don't want to give Kal bad news again already.

"Cyar'ika?" The concern in his tone lessens immediately when he sees I'm unhurt and not about to drop dead. "What has happened?"

"It's Rede," I tell him. "He is not what he seems. He is certainly a liar and I'll eat my research if he's Centax grown." I glance down the hall. "His DNA is 100% clone commando I have no explanation." Why is this so hard? A shadow moves in the periphery of my vision. "Also I think he just heard me." I cut the connection and turn around.

It is Rede alright.

He does not look happy.

I consider luring him away from Qail, but she has nowhere to go. SO I slip back into the lab and as if she had been reading my thoughts, starts pulling at the heavy table. Together we shove it in front of the door. It won't hold long.

I watch as Qail calmly saves the data and hides it in the secret compartment under the floor. As she does that, I raze the mainframe. Rede is moving against the door and the table shakes. He is only one, but he is a bred killer machine. And we're only two scientists. At least the research is now safe. Whatever else may happen. Qail's mouth quirks up in half a sad smirk. Or at least, mostly scientists.

.

.

.

* * *

_Jatne__'kara – _Good luck.


	15. Chapter 14

The whine of a spaceship startles us. We look at each other and nod grimly. Not unexpected and now we are prepared. Qail has found us some blasters and I have my knives. I consider making them standard to my daily wardrobe.

As Qail goes into hiding in the kitchen, I take up position in the hall leading to the lab. Then we wait. The silence is suffocating and my heartbeat races at a speed rivalling Kom'rk's.

There are no approaching steps. There is not even a sound as the door slowly opens. Then a golden whirlwind rushes through it wit a sudden. It bounds through the karyai, completely ignoring Qail and throws me onto my back. A grey tongue flicks out, lathering my face with slobber until I sputter.

"Mird! Get off me Mird! I am _drowning_ Mird!"

When I finally can sit up again, the figure in black armour is already halfway through the room. Qail is peeking out of the kitchen, probably making sure it's not some impostor making use of Mird.

"I see you handled the situation on your own." He doesn't sound the least disappointed. "Where is Rede?"

"We put him with Arla," I say.

"And how is that working out?"

"We didn't find a place to lock him into. So we tied him up and told Arla to hurt him if he moves."

"And she listened to you?"

"Well," I have to admit, "we did have to intervene once or twice until she understood the causal connection between moving and hurting."

"And what were you two up to?" He takes in the set up.

"Well, I was hiding and when the attacker reached the corridor, Qail would make a noise and I'd cut his throat from behind while he looked." I pause, "And then we both get killed if he brought friends."

Vau seems content with the answer and strides away to visit Rede.

The clone is bundled up in a corner of Arla's room. When Vau enters, Arla makes a whining noise. Qail is with her immediately, shielding Alra by putting herself between the woman and Vau.

Rede looks up. "So you brought back your daddy to handle the dirty stuff," he spits.

I crouch down so my eyes are on the same height as his. "Listen carefully, _ner vod._ You tried to kill us. That is probably not an offence in and of itself, but it would have been polite to get in line." I tilt my head slightly. "But you also lied to us and we don't know why. So there is something we really, really want from you now. And my," I pause shortly, "_daddy_, is much better at getting answers than me. At least from living beings," I add.

"Enough." Vau's voice is gruff even through the vocoder. He reaches down and hauls up Rede. When I try to straighten up between the two me, I feel my back come up against his armour. He is almost as tall as Kom'rk.

"You two get some sleep. I have an interview to conduct."

"Vau." He winces and I must admit he won't like what I'll say next. "Don't do anything irreversible until Kal is back. Please?"

He gives me a long hard stare. "Copy," he finally says and starts pushing Rede away. "And that's Walon to you."

He leaves me open-mouthed and confused. I glance at Qail who has trouble keeping Arla calm. The woman is getting more agitated by the second.

"How is she?" I ask so I had something to do.

"Better for having one fully armoured Mandalorian removed from her room plus a big male even if he looks like her brother. But not good."

I sit down on Arla's other side, putting an arm around her waist. "It's alright, Alr'ika. _An jate_. You will see." And I blabber to her in the weird mix of Mando'a and basic that is only making sense to me and maybe a little to her until I almost doze of with my head on her shoulder.

.

.

.

ner vod – my brother

An jate. – It's alright.


	16. Walon Vau: Almost Saved

It was Kom'rk who made the conference call. "The girls are in trouble." Nobody had to ask which 'girls' he was referring to. "Rede turned out to be quite the deceiver. He is not from Centax but a commando; Kamino bred and trained."

In the ensuing silence everybody tried to find harmless reasons for this kind of deceit and came up dry. In this silence, Walon Vau's hands were already dancing over his controls.

"Are they in immediate danger?" Mij asked.

"Tera thinks he knows they know."

So danger was definitely imminent.

"I'll go." Vau was pleased with the calm tone of his voice which even had an edge of annoyance. "Calculating from our current positions and vectors, I'd arrive soonest." He was glad that is wasn't even a lie. He would have made something up even risking the Nulls would notice.

"Are you sure?" Kal wanted to know.

_It is your son or my niece_. Walon didn't say that. "Positive, crosscheck if you want." _There wasn't even fools hope to find as much as a trail of Darman._ He didn't say that either.

"Copy that," Kom'rk confirmed.

"I'll drop you a line when the situation has been secured." He had already pulled his ship from hyperspace and was punching the coordinates of Mandalore into the nav comp. "Vau out." He pulled the lever as soon as the last word was out of his mouth.

Kal's son or his niece. It wasn't even a decision. Vau stared at the mottled patterns of hyperspace that went by much too slow. He was gunning the engines for all they were worth. Still he'd have too much time on his hands to wonder about how things stood in Kyrimorut.

Mird felt his tension and let out a high-pitched whine. He bent down and cradled the strill on his lap, scratching its fur. "We're going home," he announced. "There is some pest control to be done."

.

* * *

.

Kyrimorut was dark and silent when he landed well within hearing distance. Maybe Rede would get overconfident or maybe he was expecting backup. It might just draw him out.

It didn't. Vau scanned the house and found only four life forms. Two were in a room deep inside the vheh'yaim, the other two spread about the karyai and kitchen. He would have to have a stern talk with Kal about the sensor-proofing of his home. It was convenient now, but overall not such a bright idea. And it was not as if they were lacking the funds.

He approached the front door in utter silence. Mird was almost prancing with excitement, but also didn't make a single noise. He crouched down beside his pet. Now this would be a nasty surprise for Rede even if he had had the sense to armour up. Intelligent golden eyes looked up at him.

"Catch the clone," Vau whispered. "Catch. Only kill if you have to got it? Good. Good boy, Mird. Clever boy."

Mird whined softly and raked the first pair of his legs across the ground.

Vau opened the door silently, holding Mird back with a gesture. When no shots rang out over their heads he mentioned the still on. "Oya, Mird! Catch!"

The animal shot into the building like an arrow from the string. But a few paces into the room his hunting growl turned into the exuberant whine. Following Mird, Vau increased the feed of his audio and could hear Tera complain. The signal from the kitchen turned out to be Qail. She had an admittedly useless blaster aimed at him. So they had been expecting trouble.

Walon smiled at the sight of Tera fighting Mird down and wiping her face ferociously. He sent an 'all clear' to Kal as he made his way towards her. The girls definitely had the right stuff. Mandokarla.

He listened to Tera explaining everything except how they had actually overwhelmed Rede. He made a note to come back to that later. The clone was nicely trussed up. He looked indeed as if Arla had tried to rearrange his features, limbs included. Still he was full of spite.

What he had not expected was how Tera calling him 'daddy' tugged at his insides. For a moment Walon caught himself picturing himself in that position. He had to be more careful.

What he had expected even less was how much worse it was to be addressed by Tera with his last name just moments later. He was way too attached to the girl. He might as well admit to it.

"That's Walon to you," he snapped, shoving Rede out of the room

There were not many rooms adequate from imprisonment and interrogation in Kyrimorut. So far it had not been a major concern. It was another thing he'd have to have a stern talk with Kal about. In the end he chose a simple sleeping room with windows too small to get through and no furniture to speak of besides the basics.

Sitting Rede down on one of the chairs, Vau carefully chained his ankles and wrists to it. It wouldn't hold a determined man. But that was part of the idea. Hope was something that was best broken fresh.

"You might want to talk and make this easy on you, _vod_." He sat down opposite the young man. He'd been there before. He knew how to do this, in detail. It was not the right time to think about that now, though.

"I am TK-70558, stormtrooper of the Empire."

"I see somebody had the wits to give you some training at least. That's good for you but not good enough." Vau put down an assortment of small angry and painful instruments on the table between them. "Because I am better."

"I am TK-70558, stormtrooper of the Empire."

"I know you are lying about that." Slowly Vau got up. "And you might be surprised at how much I can tell from just looking at you." A knife danced between his gloved fingers.

Rede didn't even look. "I am TK-70558, a stormtrooper of the Empire."

"So let's see what we have." With a few precise cuts, the shirt fell of the clone's torso. For a moment Vau regarded the scars. "Might have know you were trained by one of those _aruetiise kyr'tsade._ Well, well, well. This is going to be interesting."

"I am TK-70558, a stormtrooper of the Empire."

"No. You are not. And you know it." Vau sat down again looking at the man before him. "And because you know it as well this line will not hold you together very long."

"I am RC-9720, a clone commando of the Empire." The tone didn't change and he didn't miss a single beat.

Vau smiled to himself. Breaking people was an art. It took time, precision and you had to know exactly where to push. He knew how to break men like him. He had done it for many years and was unlikely to forget about that any time soon. But it was alright now. And this one had drawn his personal attention.


	17. Chapter 15

He doesn't even look tired the next morning. Walon Vau, that is. He sits at the great table in the karyai, drumming his fingers and drinking shig so strong that the citric scent of it assaults my nose all the way to the kitchen. I load a tray with pancakes, syrup and butter, grab dark tea for myself and join him.

"Your shig smells worse than Mird."

He gives me a long, blank look and takes a pancake. You'd expect a man looking like him to meticulously dissect it. Instead he rips the pancake into shreds and dips those into the syrup. He chews, deep in thought.

"How did you do it?" He finally asks. "Overpowering Rede."

"Brute force," I reply deadpan as I soak a pancake for myself and roll it up. "What did you expect?"

"Nothing less. I assume you head-butted him into next week?"

"Indeed." I almost let the grin show. "But seeing how things are with height difference and such, I actually head-butted his privates. Should have jumped or stood on a box."

Vau raises a brow at me.

I break out the grin because I can't help it. "Actually, we just pumped him full of tranquillisers. See, that's the good thing about the lab, lot's of chemicals. We loaded the decontamination unit with them. So when he finally broke through the door, we just flooded the place."

"And he dropped and you didn't?"

"We put neutraliser into our breathing masks," I admit with a shrug. "It's really nothing. Sorry."

"Doesn't sound like nothing," he replies. "Good work."

I don't know what to say. Since I am already staring at my plate, I think it a spectacular idea to keep doing just that.

Qail saves me, sitting down opposite me and taking in the remains of the pancakes. "Arla's still bad," she announces. "I really don't think we should put fully armoured men into her vicinity again. Ever."

"Jusik will straighten her out sooner or later," I say. Jusik can do anything. He saved Fi. How hard could Arla's head be?

"You don't just lay off being kyr'tsad," Vau says. He gets up and stretches. "I think I have found some more questions Rede will be pleased to hear." He leaves, cracking his knuckles.

I look at Qail and she shrugs. "Better Rede than us. You heard anything?"

"Not yet." I wonder if Vau had held back so we could sleep. Was there even a sound-proof room in Kyrimorut? I shiver thinking about it. The day stretches in the long silence of things being taken apart.


	18. Chapter 16

Vau stays. He calls it 'keeping the fort'. He is also working on Rede. Now and then he suggests Qail and I take a nice long walk far away from the house. We do.

A few days later the others begin to trickle back. They look tired and dejected. Still I pounce on Kom'rk when he arrives and he carries me all the way back into the house.

"You need weapons and training," he decides.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck. I don't like fighting, but I like being fought even less. It would probably be nice to stand some kind of a chance.

"Show her the armoury," Mereel suggests. "She'll like that." He ruffles my hair and I blow him a raspberry.

Still not much later we end up exactly there. The armoury is actually an assembly of any portable weapon ever, from conk rifles and multi-barrelled repeaters to scalpel knives the size of fingernail clippings. I don't know where to look first. Sleek blasters beckon to me, carefully crafted for hands my size. The long sniper guns are taller than me, I don't think I could even lift some of the heavier arms.

There are knives, chains, pieces of wire and grenades. I think they are grenades, I haven't really seen one before. The variety of blades is stunning. I resist the urge to run my fingers over them to avoid unwanted bloodloss.

"Candy shop. Help yourself." Mereel grins and his eyes rake over the assembled toys with pleasure. We like our guns here, even if they're blades, repeaters or launchers.

I don't know where to start. I want some of each, even the unwieldy stuff that would nail me in place. Finally I begin by tying my hair back with a garrotte. Pretty and useful, just what I like. And what will make the next _chakaar_ who tries to abduct me very, very sorry because I chose one that will cut through a neck seal as well as the underlying neck.

The small blasters look like water pistols, but I can get my hands around the handles easily and they are not heavy. I want knuckle dusters and something to stick into my other boot for emergencies and, and, and._ I want that._

It's heavy as hell and I have to brace when I try to swing it. The blade makes a satisfying hissing noise in the air. I hope _ba'vodu_ won't mind the brand new cut in his armoury wall. Damn, that thing is one sharp bastard beauty.

"Beskad," a calm voice says behind me. "Probably a little too heavy for you in its original."

I turn around and Vau takes a step out of the vector of the blade. I understand what he means. Just holding the blade up at a sensible angle is putting a strain on my muscles. Still I grin. "I'm short. Need to get close to fight anyway. Short vod, short sword."

"It won't do you any good if you can't even hold it up." Sidestepping the blade he puts a finger under the crossguard and raises the besdak's tip several inches.

He's right and I lower it carefully. "Will put some muscles on me," I shrug defiantly.

With one swift movement he takes the sword from me and before I can react my whole small arsenal ends up in his hands. "How are you ever going to fight anyone?" He sounds weary. Disappointed.

I eye him wondering if I can take back any of the weapons, but he is holding the beskad with practised ease. I look up at him. He wouldn't cut me, right? He wouldn't. Ba'vodu'd give him hell. I make half a move.

The beskad sails through the air towards me and I catch it, surprised that I don't cut off my own hands. The blade stops an inch before denting Kal's floor.

There is a glint in Vau's eye just before he starts throwing the rest of my armoury back at me. _Shabuir_. I catch almost all of it and get nobody killed or dismembered in the process. He almost smiles as he turns away. "Try to get a bes'bev, Ter'ika. You might be some good with that at least."

I am not offended until I find out what a bes'bev is. And then I am not offended long because Mij promises to teach me how to use it. And I do get a gruff offer for lessons with the beskad. I wonder why everybody thinks Vau is so hard.

.

.

.

* * *

bes'bev – Mandalorain flute and stabbing weapon


	19. Chapter 17

Kal doesn't even arrive last. But he looks deflated, almost defeated. I do not dare approach him. I leave that to Vau who can make more progress out of the standstill at interrogating Rede than I can make out of our small achievements.

"He was trained by Diez," he says. "He will break but it will take more time."

"And in the meantime?" _Ba'vodu_ looks so tired.

"We have to assume Kyrimorut is compromised," Vau replies. "We must be prepared."

Kal gives him a sad look but nods. I understand. This place has just become a home. It hurts to leave it again. I look around and wonder where Niner is. Fi is back and so is Laseema, but Besany is on her own as well.

"He is with Ordo and Corr," Kom'rk tells me. "They are getting you the Centax clone data."

I don't ask. I don't want to know if they plan to bring samples or a whole live clone and if they plan to grab it from action or Centax II itself. I content myself with the fact that it is not my husband risking his life for once even if it is the most selfish happiness ever.

"Look at that," Qail tells me in the lab.

I stare into the Petri dish. "Can't see a thing."

"Exactly. Which means the cultures are dead."

It is another setback among many. We strike the possible alteration out of the list and look at the endless possibilities ahead of us.

"I hope Ordo hurries," Qail says. "We need that data if we want to get anywhere."

I sterilise the Petri dishes. "At least the meganuclease works," I try to see the positive side. "We can latch on to that, even if we need different peptides for each variation. We're good. We can do that."

"Wish I had your unwavering optimism."

"I have to," I reply. "Where would I be if I didn't have that?"

"Right." She looks at her screen. "And we will just make sure you were right all the time."

Qail has Mij and he has all the time in the world. I have Kom'rk and he doesn't. Life isn't fair that way, but then life never is. You just deal with the hand you're given or you give up. I don't feel like folding. I will cheat to the deepest depths of my soul if necessary.

Because I have something worth cheating for. Some_one_. And a whole clan on top of it. We are in the shooting range and I am an embarrassment. My score is very high in the negative digits. Kom'rk doesn't seem to mind.

"You managed Rede without any weapons. And you learn and improve." He lifts me up until my head is level with his. "I am proud of you."

I take his face with both hands and kiss him because that is what he has been made for. If you ask me anyway.


	20. Chapter 18

When I am not in the lab, I practice. There is always somebody there to teach me some fighting. And Mij shows me how to play the bes'bev without shedding blood.

"Do it right and you'll pierce hearts nevertheless." He plays a mournful version of Vode An. I try to follow his lead but my notes branches off. Without noticing it takes me into places I didn't know I knew and there is a whole melody waiting for me, catching me and carrying me away.

I cannot help playing it. It is full of a longing I can't remember and feels as if somebody had written it into my soul. I love it. It is that simple. Kom'rk likes it as well. His body sways as he is doing maintenance on his kit. I watch him and wonder about myself.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." His dark eyes lie on me like an interdiction field.

I lower the bes'bev and come to stand at his side. "But it would be safer for me, would it not? If I wore armour."

He nods and pulls me close. "I want you safe."

My fingers run through his hair on their own volition. "So do I," I reply. "So we both will have to do our best." And we do and it is enough.

"Ordo will be back soon," he says into my hair.

My fingers trace the irregular patterns of his scars. I know them all. I can see them with my eyes closed. A map of my _cyar'ika_ who thinks each of them worth the pain as they give me something to trace.

"I will make it happen," I whisper. "If it is the last thing I do. I _will_ make it happen. Just watch me."

"I always do." His voice trickles over me like rain. "I enjoy the view."

I bury my face against him and think of all the time I will create for us.


	21. Chapter 19

Ordo, Niner and Corr return. They do not bring samples. They bring four clones who look around with undisguised surprise.

"Lifeday, vod'ika," Ordo says as he herds them into the lab. "All yours though I think your settled better the way you are now already."

Four men without names sit in the lab. They don't resist. They don't object. Their eyes are wide and everything is new to them.

"What should we call you?" I ask. They look at me uncomprehending and give me numbers. "But don't you have names?"

They consider that. "Is it an option?", one finally asks.

They are breaking my heart. Though not enough to forget about taking samples and feeding those to Jaing's little programme.

In the end they call themselves Riye, Sal, Bevin and Lance. I am not laughing to their faces when they tell me. They are serious young men that don't know the first thing about life. And it's not as if Bevin and Lance aren't alike like twins. They try to be useful and Niner is with them a lot. I try get myself into shape while Jaing's programme does its work.

I try to get the hang of the beskad. It is not easy because it is really fucking heavy. My arms hurt and I can barely use it.

"Yes, it is a heavy weapon," Vau agrees. "But that doesn't mean you have to wield it like club. If you want, you can listen to the Jedi all day yammering about the elegance of their sabers." He raises the weapon gracefully. "But as usual, they have no monopoly on that."

I take a cautious step backwards as he swings into motion. Vau is not a young man but you wouldn't notice from the way he moves. In full armour he might just as well pass for half his age. He looks like a black predator as he flows through a series of moves that betray long practice. Maybe I better really, really try to think of him as Walon. Just in case he takes offence.

He corrects my stance. Everything below impeccable is unacceptable and softly growled commands are way more efficient than any shots. But then they have always been. He gives me a whole new aspect of my past to grapple with. But now I can fight it off with a sword as the instructions roll over me like breakwater.

"It is _not_ a club!" Those words will follow me to my grave.


	22. Chapter 20

The guinea-pig clones huddle in the lab. Rede faked their wide-eyed interest very well. I makes me a little nervous. But these are the genuine thing. Well, I shouldn't talk about them like that. And they stick together as if they fear we'd take one of them apart to see how he works. They are not very assured by anything we say.

Mij has done all routine checks on them and then some. They look uneasy when he is around. I understand but I hope they will relax soon. At least they don't keep ageing with the speed they were grown. Not that I ever tried to calculate the amount of energy they'd need just to keep up the mitosis.

Our eyes keep returning to where the new DNA is sequenced and marked. Waiting seems even worse than having to do it yourself. At least you were busy then.

"We need to create a meganuclease that will recognise the varieties in the genome," I sigh. "How long will that even take even if we know exactly which sequences to target. What if the starting or ending points differ? But with that we could just patch it onto everyone and have the double-stranded breaks repaired with non-homologous end joining."

"Too risky," Qail replies. "It's to prone for random mutation. If we let a polymerase chain reaction loose on it, there is no telling what we will get. No, as long as we can't guaranteed targeted change only, non-homologous end joining is not an option."

We stare at the screens and schematics in silence. And I try to tell myself that the gene sequencing is what takes longest and that we didn't have to do it. We're doing fine. Scientists pore over problems like this for decades. But we don't have decades and we know it. Still we can't risk anything going wrong. I look at the green landscape around Kyrimorut and think of Kom'rk.

Niner collects the four clones, determined to get some real life to them. I don't know if it is repentance or self-flagellation. Maybe it is both. But they start to relax around him at least. Kal has tried treating them like everybody else and that did not work. They have not lived enough to know how to handle interpersonal relationships. They were not bred to have any and it is not easy for them.

Now Kal focusses on relocating the whole operation without anybody noticing. The Nulls are all over the project. Kyrimorut is a big place. Many people and things have to be moved and none should be traceable. I am daunted by the mere thought of it.

"That is why they are doing it," Besany says. As a former auditor she knows a lot about leaving trails and spends a lot of time with Jaing.

Vau, that is Walon, is seldom to be seen and drumming his fingers almost always. I wonder what it means. One day Rede was moved from the room he had been in since being captured. I have not heard another sound of him since. And I do not let my thoughts linger on soundproofing.

I can't wait for the DNA processing to be done. It's not as if I could concentrate of any other aspect until I have not seen for myself if the material will suffice.


	23. Chapter 21

The Centax data is like a kick in the stomach that makes you vomit pints of blood. You're in pain but heady and aware that though things feel fine, you're probably going to collapse any second.

Qail and I stare at each other for a long moment before breaking into almost frenzied action. We don't even have to tell each other how to do this. We _know_. This might be it and we have to know. Now. And there are over three billion base pairs. Even if we don't have to look at all of them. Probably.

I start on the Null Arc data, predictably. My heart flutters as I reduce the marked areas to those relevant to that genome. Not one blinks out. I blink and try to catch my breath. "Qail?"

"Same." It's almost inaudible. We look at each other in shock. After a few minutes she looks up again. "Same, same. It is all silencing and enhancing. They didn't bother to substitute any of the sequences at all."

I close my eyes. I can do this. Not because I have to. Not because there is nobody else. I can do this because I can. I have the background, the knowledge, the training. It is what I do. I am good at this. So do it I will. I think of Kom'rk and his future and his brothers and Kal. This is what I do and that is who I do it for. There is really no excuses.

So we work. Our heads are bent over the long sequences of base pairs, five of them next to each other, dizzying and distracting. It is a stupefying task to compare the changes, but it has to be done meticulous. Jaing's programme lets us know when something is not looking the same but it doesn't tell if that is due to shifted nuclear receptors, chemical silencing or actually redesigned sequences. And just because it is the transcription factors in one genome there is no guarantee it is the same in another.

We have to be exact. Inaccuracies of one nucleotide could be disastrous. I bury myself in the data. I forget to eat. And sometimes I get thirsty but if there's nothing to drink around I just ignore it. I have no idea if Qail is around or not, we don't talk much. We know what we have to do. Sometimes Mereel pops in and ticks another sequence off the list.

The progress is steady. I rub my eyes and look out. It's still light. Strange, I thought it had been dusk just some time ago. I rub my eyes again. They feel dry and rusty. I feel somewhat rusty overall. But it's not too bad. Another look at the pile of work ahead makes me roll my shoulders. Now _this_ will be interesting. It is every time. I smile when I think about the things we can do with the groundwork finished.

Then Kom'rk arrives and physically removes me from the lab. I curse and weep because we're finally so close but he is unrelenting. "You need to drink, eat and sleep."

"It is your future, too." I appeal to his self-preservation.

"I won't like it much if you worked yourself to death for it."

How can you argue with that? I wolf down the food and wash it away with two big glasses of water. But he is not satisfied. I am dragged off to have a shower and am put to bed. I can't lie still. I fidget. Sequences pass before my inner eye, the changes highlighted in five colours, blinking on and off.

But Kom'rk holds me close and apart from making me feel secure it also makes it impossible to slip out of bed and back into the lab again. "I wasn't even that long," I protest feebly against his heart.

"Three days."

It couldn't have been that long. I would have noticed. Would have been hungry and thirsty and tired. And I wasn't. Just had trouble keeping my eyes open now and then and probably had some microsleep sometimes.

"Three days," Kom'rk repeats. His hand tightens around my shoulder. "Now you sleep."

Not for three days or so I hope. My mind wanders off to the medicine cabinet and the stims in there. Kom'rk's heart is beating fast and right now each beat hurts because salvation is just a few rooms away. I feel I shouldn't cry in his arms so much.

"You are doing fine, cyar'ika."

I don't feel like it. I feel like curling up and despairing, but that is probably just the lack of sleep. I cling to him instead. He looks after me. I should start returning that, not that I know how. I whisper gratitude and promises into his skin as a leaden fatigue starts creeping over me.


	24. Chapter 22

When I wake up, I feel horrible. My head is throbbing and my limbs feel heavy like they had been coated with full-density beskar. Somebody seems to have forgotten to cut through it to allow my joints some movement, too.

I manage to get up and shower without drowning myself. When I reach the kitchen, reproving looks abound.

"High time," Laseema says.

I shrug apologetically. "I forgot about time."

"That is not the only thing you forgot about." She shakes her head. "It's not that we don't understand. Just take better care of yourself in the process."

"Somebody could just have told me." I grab a cup of tea and sniff. Shig. Omnipresent, if only I liked it. I rummage around until I find dark tea.

"We tried. Don't you think we tried?"

"I don't remember."

"That shows how bad it was." We settle down at the table in the karyai. "I'm as interested in giving my husband a normal life span as you," she continues. "So I promised Kal and Kom'rk to have an eye on you."

I look around. "Where is everybody."

"Well," Laseema takes a long sip from her cup and a deep breath. "Kal is in Keldabe with Jaing and Mij. Fi and Parja are in the workshop, they have taken Lance and Bevin along. Niner is herding Riye and Sal at Rav's place. Jusik is treating Arla, Scout is probably with them or she is in the lab with Qail and Mereel. Prudii, Maze and Corr have gone scouting the galaxy while Ordo is working on invisible relocation options. Kom'rk and Atin are infiltrating, you don't want to know what."

My head swims. There's so many people here.

"Oh, Vau is cracking away on Rede. Result is imminent, he says." Laseema scratches her cheek thoughtfully. "I think that is all. Qail is in the lab. She's taken more breaks and better care of herself.

"She always did," I agree. "And I'm sorry."

"Don't let it happen again and we'll all be fine." She pats my hand. "And Kom'rk insisted we had some pancake batter ready when you get up."

I nod. "He loves me." There's nothing else to say.


	25. Walon Vau: Beskad

He knew he should have taken a big step backwards and left the moment he had seen her handling the beskad in the armoury. But of course, he hadn't. It had been – well, if Walon Vau had used words like 'adorable' that would have been it. She was barely able to hold it straight.

There had been a look of wonder and longing on her face. Walon promised himself to get up a working defence against that. Soon.

Wasn't it enough that Kal had talked him out of one of his best knives for the girl? Now this. Who was he even trying to fool? The kid did great. Sheena would be proud. Walon knew he was. She had caught the heavy sword and most of her other chosen armoury without any injuries. She'd make it.

Not to mention she had actually gotten a bes'bev. Sometimes Vau wished he hadn't suggested it. Tera practised diligently and not only stabbing with it. The sad melodies she preferred haunted the vheh'yaim. And like scent, melodies had the habit to bypass conscious thought and delve right into memory. Mij swore he hadn't taught her the mournful tune she played most often.

_She doesn't even know._ Some days Walon was close to telling her it was called 'Sleep under the shadows of night, dear child.' Just another lullaby. He pushed it from his mind. There was a time and a place for everything. And now it was time to make sure Tera could handle a beskad. She was being taught everything else already.

Kom'rk was the obvious choice to teach her unarmed, close combat; Mij showed her the varied uses of the bes'bev and anybody able to wield a weapon was prey to her eagerness to learn. Watching her practice with Besany was quite an education.

She had her hair tied up with the garrotte again. It was a distractingly convenient way to store the weapon.

He tried not to think about her disappointment about having to use substitutes during training. She could use a real beskad when on her own. And it would be quite a while until he'd trust her skills enough to use real weapons, even if both were completely armoured up.

Vau wondered how he had learnt to use the short sword without killing anybody. It occurred to him that maybe he hadn't.

Tera looked tiny behind her huge grin and the broad sword, even though time had done her good. Her arm was back to normal, though her back would never be smooth. Vau shut away his anger for later use. Sooner or later there was always somebody to kill.

"Ready?" He was sure his tone had been appropriately gruff. Still she beamed. _Seeing right through you_, he sighed to himself. She had that from her mother.

"Yep." She radiated confidence. "Kom'rk said he'd have a very civilised conversation with you if you cut of important bits. Not that I'll let you." She waved the sword before her.

Walon could see in the irregular curves the blade made that she hardly controlled it. This would be a long, long way. He pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile. As good an excuse as any. And who in this shabla huge place didn't indulge that slice of a waif? "You have heard of practice swords, right?" He asked.

Tera looked embarrassed but nodded. "I just like sharp-edged things."

Walon could think of a few she had in her arsenal, counting Kom'rk among the more deadly ones.

She grinned at him impishly. "Can you kill people with your cheekbones, too?"

"Watch it kid." He raised the beskad. Tera mirrored his movement. "Wrong. Hold it." Walon lowered his weapon and moved to correct her stance. She wobbled a little when he repositioned her feet. The weapon was definitely too heavy for her. "You'll never be able to use it for fighting."

"I know." Her face was a study in concentration. "But I want it. So I will have it."

Walon studied his work for a moment. Then he showed her a simple hit and step combination to practice while he went to get the training blades. Stubborn. That she was. It was a family trait.


	26. Chapter 23

But the mornings are hard on me. I think I need to talk to Mij. I feel horrible each time I get up with pounding headaches and the urge to throw up. It doesn't get better either. I guess, I'll watch it another week and see if it goes away.

Qail and I finish our groundwork and there is a muted elation permeating the whole clan. We are getting there. Just a little longer. If it was a race, we could bet on what will happen first: the move of the cure. But there is no competition.

We twist and turn the DNA on our screens and simulate the effects of so many chemicals on them that I start mixing them up. Mereel whacks me up the head when I do, but it's playful. "Where are your wits, ad'ika?"

"In a safe place so you can't get at them," I reply. "Also I think that this dose of zinc may be deadly if we use it on actual people."

"Indeed." He isn't worried the least. "We'll just have to find a way to substitute for it, because if we follow Qail's latest approach, that is how much zinc we need to fill people up with."

I frown. Substituting an element is difficult, especially if it is an integral part of the protein you want to use. How did she ever get to that idea. I stare at my display for a moment, seeing nothing. We're using different approaches so we can cover more ground. Somehow Qail is more into twisting and turning while I look more at splitting and splicing.

Now and then we exchange information we think relevant for the other. It usually is and we get along in bouts. I think that a meganuclease can be modified to work on each genome. Mereel is sitting at that with intense concentration. I have never seen anybody create and destroy any engineered nucleases so fast.

"Nothing to it," he claims, grinning from ear to ear. Of course he _knows_ how good he is. He is Mereel. "These are for the first three sequences. Can't accidentally split anything else, too."

The genome has been changed at 231 places and we have a solution to three. But then, we only know how a part of those sequences are supposed to look originally yet. Kad's data helps, the Centax data helps. But we still need work out the last parts of this puzzle. Otherwise all of it will be worth nothing.


	27. Chapter 24

"This would silence the relevant sequences," Qail says. "Or most of them. It would buy them time."

The one thing we can't generate within our Petri dishes. "Show me." I stare over her shoulder. The relevant parts of the genome hang on her display, straightened for easier view and furnished with several brightly coloured repressor proteins. I study it for a long while. "Explain," I finally say.

"It's possible to silence most of the sequences causing the rapid ageing. I could arrange the regulatory proteins similar to this. These eucaryotic activators cover almost all sequences." She flips through a few screens. I know the images by heart. I could probably draw the molecular structure of half the sequences from the top of my head now.

"The activators influence the transcription of their immediately adjacent sequences, but in this set up they also work on the sequences further up and down the helix. It means we need fewer of them if we position them right. And get them right."

I stare at the bright specs of light on the screen. She is right. It might just work. I can see a few kinks in the placing, but she said it was a working hypothesis, nothing more. Fewer regulatory proteins mean less chance for mistakes, better transcription. In my head the helix twists and turns until the silenced parts are all facing inwards.

"Oh."

"It's not a problem," Qail seems to read my mind. "I can engineer some added hydrogen bonds to keep it in shape."

She doesn't say 'but'. She doesn't have to.

The silencing would work, but it would also twist the DNA into a new shape. One that would not be recognisable by a nuclease devised to target the sequences for final repair. It would search forever for the relevant sequences hidden away inside the double helix. It might buy them time, but it might just kill them a bit later than now and rob them of a full life-span still.

"Not good enough," I say.

She nods. "But a back-up plan in case all else fails."

I am uneasy about it. A back-up plan should be good. It should not be a half-baked idea of a few years give or take. But it is the best we have so far. So we secure the result and put it away in the safe. We don't even tell anybody. It's that bad a back-up plan.


	28. Chapter 25

So I went to see Mij. It hurts me to wake up next to Kom'rk feeling so miserable. I cannot blame him, not really. And I do feel better after breakfast, when I make my way to the lab.

"How do you manage?" Qail asks. "They barely sleep six hours and you just keep that up for weeks. Are you sure, you're fine?"

It hits too close to home. It is when I decide to talk to Mij. I smile at Qail and tell her I feel fine, not a trace of weariness. And that is the truth. I am not tired. I just hurt.

Mij promises to treat all information confidential and not even tell Qail or Kal. Then he runs a variety of scanners over me as he listens to my list of symptoms. He frowns. He makes more scans. He takes samples. It is strange to be at the other side of that for once.

I feel a blush creep up on me, but he is all physician. Finally he is finished. "It may take a day or two to be absolutely sure," he says. "But I am pretty sure, it is nothing life-threatening."

I nod and don't dare to ask the obvious question. He had said a day or two and I can wait that long.

In the meantime three more men arrive and walk around the _vheh'yaim_ like ghosts. Their names are Jerem, Silas and Fi. Another Fi. I wonder how many of those there are.

"Very many," Kom'rk says. "How would you create names from numbers if you had to?"

I do not know and I have never thought about it. Now I have to wonder how many Niners there are and Sevs on top of all the Fis.

But these three are subdued and silent. Kal tries to cheer them up with treats and a bright future. But they are one man short and I find out that he died during desertion, had fallen almost over the finishing line. He had been their leader and driving force of the venture. And now he is gone and they made it and they miss him.

There is nothing I can do. So I do what I can. I work in the lab. I exercise. I say goodbye to Kom'rk again as he leaves and welcome him back and say goodbye again. I am getting the hang of that, even if it hurts. A lot of things in life seem to hurt even if everything is more or less okay.

One day Kal and Walon lock themselves up with Rede. They return and Kal looks drawn and tired. He calls all of us together.

"Kyrimorut is no longer safe," he says. There are lines in his face I have never seen before. "Rede has been spying for the Empire and reported on the location of several wanted deserters." He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"The exact location is unknown to the Empire as yet, but they know where to look for us. The only reason they have not come yet is that they are more interested in hunting down the remaining Jedi. But they will come for us. We need to move out."

I don't want to move out. I feel tears trickle down my face. This place is my home. I want to stay. I want to finish the cure and raise children with Kom'rk. I want, I want – it does not matter what I want. It's the cold hard truth, brought home with my face pressed against the cold hard plates of Kom'rk's beskar'gam.

Everybody is now put to the ask of relocating as soon as possible. Small groups are created that will move together and vanish until a new home has been created. Building a place like this takes time and effort and hiding that takes even more effort. The lab will be the most difficult part. We will probably have to relocate it ourselves, especially the biohazard chamber is difficult to obtain without a trail on such short notice.

That gives Qail and me a little more time to work on our solution.


	29. Chapter 26

"I have found out what you suffer from," Mij says. "But you won't like it."

I fold my hands and dangle my feet. Mij has claimed important business to stay behind and finish his tests.

"Firstly, you are not pregnant. It is stress. You are putting too much pressure on yourself." He makes a pause and looks for kind words. "You cannot become pregnant."

I cannot? Hell I can. I mean, not going into details here but I am way certain I could be pregnant. I do not believe in angels or storks. "I am sure that-"

He interrupts me, raising a hand. "It is nothing you can do anything about. Do you remember your time with the Death Watch?"

I wince. I remember. It can't control me anymore, but I remember. Too much of it and too many details. Nothing can make the memories go away. Not even Kom'rk. Only their power over me faded.

"They took that from me." Something cold forms between my organs like a new entity made of rage and hate. "They too k that from me too."

"I am sorry, ad'ika."

"It is not your fault." I want to go and kill them, kill them all. But they are already dead. Dead and gone for years and years. "So this is it, too much pressure and no children."

"Ter'ika..."

"It's okay Mij." I try to smile. "I'll deal. I'll live." What else was there to do anyway? It's like sleepwalking. I go back to the main room and there is this cold fusion burning inside me ready to go off. _Why are they all dead?_

Walon and Kal sit in the karyai arguing intently in soft voices. "You killed the Death Watch members that owned me?" I ask.

They look up in unison; Kal upset and Walon thinking. They nod. "Yes."

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them. Why is that important now?" Kal wants to know.

I cannot tell him. I want to lash out and pummel somebody, anybody. I want to kill slowly and painfully. I look at them. I want to explode. Both have weapons on them, but so do I. But they are better with theirs than I after the little instruction I had.

"You either fight red-hot or ice-cold," I whisper. "Red-hot or ice-cold." It is a decision you make. I must make it now. I turn away abruptly and stalk into my room on disjointed legs. There I stand in front of my own little armoury. In a way I am glad that Kom'rk is not here. I can deal and when I have to tell him, at least I will have been through all of it already.

I stare at my weapons and close my eyes. What do I want to do, really do? Pummel somebody with my fists because it is satisfying to exert myself like that. It is not efficient. Turning somebody into thin slices of human-tsatsushi is a close second. Slicing. My hands close around the hilt of my beskad. It is heavy, very heavy, but I start to cope.

I sheathe the beskad and return to the karyai. Kal and Walon are still there, deep in discussion again. I do not care. "I will fight ice-cold," I say. "And you will teach me how." I try to stare Walon down but those golden eyes are disconcerting. He glances at the beskad n my hands. "Now," I add.

He shrugs apologetically in Kal's direction and gets up. "Why now?"

"Because I say so." I take a deep breath and try to ban Mij's voice from my head. Him being sorry doesn't help. Nothing can help.

"If you want to use the real blade, you need to armour up."

I nod and flip my comm open to send Kom'rk a message. 'Where do I get a beskar'gam,' it reads. 'And the jumpsuit and belt and helmet and everything. In black.' I will drown out the last of crimson in my own black.

"Done," I tell Walon.

"See you outside then." He leaves and Kal looks at me his face full of questions. I don't know which one he wants answered, but since I don't know why Walon is obliging towards me, I know that Mij can tell Kal the other end of the story. "Ask Mij." The words hurt. "Tell him I told you you'd tell him."

Outside the air is soft and warm with the early evening of a mild summer. I start swinging the blade in slow motions. It is a pity I cannot kill anybody right now. I would have liked to. Maybe Walon can also show me how not to kill people all in one go. He had been working on Rede quite a while. Too bad that is all over. I could have learnt a thing or two.

Walon keeps his word. He always does. And it doesn't take long until I am coated in sweat, breathing heavily. He never takes it easy on me just because I am just half of a normal person and weak. I know he won't break me, though and that is because Kom'rk and Kal would be fighting each other over the right to cut him into smithereens.

"How do you kill people slowly?" I ask into the silence between to exercises.

He gives me a strange look and lowers his beskad. It looks almost harmless in his hands, nothing more than a big knife. "What is is, Tera?"

I lower my sword as well and turn away. I am tired but not too tired to cry. I curl up with my back to one of the many curved walls of Kyrimorut, resting the training blade against it next to me. Predictably it slips to the ground with a soft clatter.

"Tera?" Seeing Walon crouched in front of me doesn't make any thing better. He lays a hand on my shoulder. "Ter'ika, what is it?"

I can't tell him. Are there any words at all to say something like this? If so, I do not know them. But I can cry and bounce my forehead off his shoulder plate as he sits down next to me. Only when the tears start to stop I realise what happened and how unlikely it is. It takes three hitched breaths and another bout of weeping before I get the words out.

"I can't have children. _Jari'eyc._"

There it is. The cold and ugly truth rearing its leering head at me, mocking me with sharp teeth and a poisonous grin.

I still feel like weeping, but there is not much energy left in me. I feel so empty, cold and lonely. Walon putting an arm around my shoulder is only helping a little. He is not Kom'rk. That might be better right now.

"You'll do fine," he says. "You will be fine. _Udesii_."

I get my breath back under control, smelling antiseptic soap and slight sting of metal and machine oil. "Why are you even here?" I ask. I don't know if I am being mean or not. I just don't know how to apply humanity right now. "Why me?"

He doesn't answer for a long time. Finally he shrugs. "Kal is not the only uncle you have here."

I don't know what to say. He is dead serious. I don't know what to think. "How-?"

"Your mother is, was my sister."

I am out of words again. They are a most inadequate means to express yourself. "I am sorry."

"What for?"

I don't know. I just feel that I hurt him. I seem to have a knack for doing that. "Not being her," I finally say. It's the closest I can get to the whirlpool of emotions.

"_An jate, ad'ika._ You're doing fine."

I sit processing all of that. All of it and it takes time. There's a plethora of questions springing up, drowning out each other; some nasty, some painful, some unfair all of them clamouring.

"What kind of woman was she?" I finally ask.

"Strong. Kind. Beautiful." He shrugs again. "She was the elder of us two and did her best to protect me."

The idea that Walon Vau should ever have been in need of protection doesn't compute. "From what?"

"Our father." He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't have to. Family is not always a blessing. I feel glad that I can choose mine. I feel inexplicably happy about the bit I just found.

"And," I don't know how to frame that question, not to mention get it out around the lump in my throat, " am I-?"

"Everything." He takes my hand and turns to look at me. "Everything and more."

He has never had a father who cared. And that is what he was seeing all around him. Kal is collecting strays and waifs but I am pretty sure neither of them has looked at like that.

"Maybe I should adopt you." I lean my head against his shoulder. I am exhausted, drained. "Though I'd make a horrible father."

"But you will make a great mother." He says it full of conviction. "_Aliit ori'shya tal'din_."

.

.

.

* * *

_Jari'eyc –_ (I am) ugly, ruined, wrecked

_Udesii –_Take it easy.

_An jate, ad'ika. __- _It's alright, child.

_Aliit ori'shya tal'din_. - Family is more than blood.


	30. Walon Vau: The Truth Will Win Out

It had been the first time since his hormone-flooded youth that Walon Vau had felt light-headed; a little dizzy, a little hurt, but overall good.

Tera knew and she had taken it in stride.

It had been unplanned, rash and thoughtless, but what else could he have done, seeing her so devastated? Of course the knowledge could do nothing to ease her pain, but maybe it could balance it some.

Kal had looked heart-broken himself. "How is she?"

"Dealing," Vau had replied. "And not doing too badly. It would help if she could cut somebody into thin slices soon-ish, though."

Kal had heaved a sigh. "There is nobody."

"There is always somebody," Walon replied.

Tera had stayed holed up in her room for the rest of the day, dealing. But since then she had approached him, each evening, like clockwork, training beskad in her hands and daggers in her eyes.

She was a good pupil, learning as fast as her muscle growth allowed. And she was careful with her questions, feeling her way through the new situation as if it would break apart at one careless movement.

'_Did you know?_' was one of the more complicated ones for her. And answering it wasn't easy, but truth was truth. And yes, he would have let her lie to rot. It had been Kal's doing, not his. She had left chewing on her lip thoughtfully. But she had been back.

'_Does anybody know?'_ was an easy one. And the secret stayed his to reveal. By then he could tell from her face when she was working up to another question that she considered important but somehow hurtful. She handled that ability more careful than any blade. Hurting people made her deeply uneasy. She was used to be on the receiving end of that. Well, it was something he'd definitely put an end to.

'_Why did she have to die?_' took a whole evening to explain. It was rough going, revisiting the past in all its gory glory. Tera had sat in silence for a long time, leaning against his shoulder. He liked that. It was close but nothing involved. It was what he felt like: close but not involved. Not involved _enough_. It was a difficult thing to admit.

That look was plastered all over her now as she lowered the heavy blade. "Can I ask you something complicated - _ba'vodu_?" She tried the word out carefully as if tasting it and seeing if it fit.

It sent a small jolt through Walon who didn't let that show. "Sure, Ter'ika." Calling her _ba'ad_ would have hurt more than it was worth. It was not _enough_.

"Does it matter?" She looks up at him with _that_ look in those dark eyes.

He realised he had not found a working defence against it yet. He doubted he ever would. He doubted he would even bother trying any more. "I don't know." _The truth_, he told himself. S_tick to that._ "I'll think about it."

The answer seemed to be good enough for her. "I don't know either."

"_Aliit ori'shya tal'din_," Walon said. "But that doesn't mean we can't stick with each other if we want to.

"If we want to," she repeated thoughtfully. "Yes."

That was obviously enough of an answer for her, though it did not answer any of Walon's own questions. He'd have to give it thought. Because it did matter.

But she didn't ask again. Even when he had worked it out after several days. It didn't matter because by now he stood where he stood and he would not turn back. She was his. It did not matter what she thought on the subject. He would look out for her. She was his responsibility. And that he would claim.

But yes, it did matter that they were related by blood because otherwise he would not be where he was today. And that was not an option; not any more. He'd let her know. Someday.

.

.

.

* * *

_ba'vodu - _uncle

_ba'ad - _niece (fanon!)

_Aliit ori'shya tal'din_. - Family is more than blood.


	31. Chapter 27

Each morning I get up, feeling that this day could be _the one_, and each day I go to bed disappointed that it wasn't.

Kom'rk returns with a big smile. He locks himself up with Kal for a long time and when they come out again, Kal looks relieved and things that need doing obviously will be done now. I don't ask. It's not that I am not curious, but I know what I need to know. And I don't need to know a lot of things.

How Rede is for one thing. What Prudii and Corr are up to. Where Jaing keeps vanishing to with Besany. Why the mouths of Ordo and A'den are set so grimly. Mereel stays with Qail and me a lot. He excels at everything and I feel jealous of him again. But what can I do? He is way smarter than me. And the stakes for him are even higher than for me.

"Shape up, _vod'ika_!" he tells me. "If you want to keep up with the best, you can't go slacking around the way you do. All this fighting exercise will only get you killed."

"The intention is actually to get somebody _else_ killed," I reply. I think he doesn't mean it, but I am not certain. His life is on the line here. Not mine. "You can't always be around to babysit us girls. Also," I grin at the idea, "Qail and I will lock you up in the data safe should Kyrimorut get under attack. You're worth more alive."

He roars with laughter and it's a beautiful sound. Not quite as beautiful as Kom'rk doing the same, but still. "Your mouth will get you killed one day if you keep that up."

"Oh, that's so been there done that." I blow him a raspberry.

"Dealing fine?" He can switch gears from hilarious to serious within a second.

"Dealing fine, _ner vod_," I assure him. "And next time I will be better prepared and leave you a nice trail of blood and body parts to follow."

"As long as they're not your body parts." Sometimes I don't think we know if we're serious or joking.

.

"Does it have to be so heavy?" I ask Kom'rk. He adjusts the belly plate once more. The armour is black. I wear black underneath it and my heavy boots don't look out of sync any longer.

"This is the lightweight version," he replies. "Lighter than that you might as well wear cardboard. Now bend over again."

I do and the plate does not gut me anymore. I guess that is what you can call improvement.

Kom'rk fingers prod around the wayward plate and he grumbles as he crouches next to me. "You need to put on some weight, _cyar'ika_. They are not making concave plates and bending this will be more work than you getting seconds."

"Of everything?" I turn me head and look at his face from above for a change.

"Naturally." He kisses me.

I return the kiss with a smile and see if I can get my arm around his shoulders. It works if awkwardly.

He raises and I find myself cradled in his arms so I put my free hand around his neck too. My face is flushed when he finally puts me down. His hands run over my body checking the fit of the plates but sending a tingle through me nevertheless.

I tap his shoulder. "I am supposed to get seconds of everything," I tell him earnestly.

"So you are." He takes his job very seriously. I won't complain.


	32. Chapter 28

"What will we do with the selectable markers?" I ask Qail. "We need them so the tDNA doesn't go into an endless loop." We also need it to check if the process was successful. But do we want the markers to remain forever?

"We'd better get rid of them," Qail agrees. "They might be too much of a lead for anybody interested in reversing the effects."

I cannot think why anybody should want to do that. It would take a lot of time and effort. Only somebody mad for revenge would go to such lengths. But I have seen hate like that. I will not think the possibility too small to take it into consideration.

"Can we sketch that up for after finding the cure?" I wonder out loud. "We'd know exactly what we did and how everything looks. And we'd have more time."

"I'll create a dump for interesting bits," she says.

We have a lot of those. Information that might be useful for something later gets dumped in clusters. It works well enough and we label things similarly enough to understand what the other was aiming at.

.

Does it have to do that?" I ask Kom'rk. There is nothing to see but a t-shaped strip of light.

"It does. You need to activate it." His voice is muted through the helmet.

"How do I do that?" I place my hands at the sides and the metal is colder under my fingers.

"Did you read the manual?"

Why would I ever do that if I had my very own instructor at hand? I take off the bucket and grin up at him. "I'd rather have you tell me."

"I can't explain everything to you."

"You could." I put a hand on his chest. "You remember everything."

Of course I know he means that we don't really have that much time together. So I do read the manual. It is not easy using the kit. I can't see much through the t-shaped visor and it's not really the way things work. Kom'rk disabled most of the interactions with the armour and weapons I still run into walls just with the basic HUD features activated.

"Can't you crop those down more?" I turn the helmet over in my hands.

"No, that is what basic means." He takes my hands in his and turns the helmet so I can look inside. "You get used to it."

I guess I'll have to. After all I'd prefer not to die by running into something solid in full kit. And I plan to use the read beskad. Walon said we'd do that when I am fully kitted out. I can't see him break his word. But I also can't see him take special consideration because I can't walk and talk at the same time in my armour. And there are many things I'd rather do than get beaten up by him.

.

"Where is Walon?" I ask Besany.

Besany raises a brow but doesn't ask the question she obviously has. "Disposing of Rede. He wouldn't be convinced to join or shut up."

I sit down and curl my fingers around the mug. "He's doing that a lot, isn't he? Dirty stuff, I mean."

"Vau?" She thinks about it a moment. "Yes," she finally replies. "He's very good at that."

I wonder how and why and if I will ever have the nerve to ask about it. I shiver.

"They're not good men," Besany says. "Neither Vau nor Kal."

I nod. We both know that. And we both know why we are here anyway and what would have lured us disregarding the Nulls. "They take care of us and don't care who gets hurt in the process. It's scary, but it is also safe."

"Well," Besany doesn't say it. But unlike me she has left a life behind she actually liked. Maybe she doesn't feel safe. I know we have to leave soon and be invisible. My throat tightens at the prospect of never seeing Kyrimorut again. But I know I am safe. No matter what happens, I will always be safe. Even if I die. Maybe I am just crazy after all.

So I comm Walon because some things you can ask only of people like him.


	33. Chapter 29

The night is of dark blue and the air is chilly. Summer is leaving already. I didn't see much of it, but then I don't regret a single day spent in the lab. We're doing good. There is a glint in our eyes because we may or may not have found something.

Mereel is worth his weight in beskar, putting together nucleases on demand and faster than we can even wrap our minds around what we need. His grin is contagious. He knows where we are headed and he is obviously thinking the same Qail and I do: land in sight.

But tonight I'm out in a nook of the woods around the vheh'yaim with Kom'rk. I can hear the lake not too far away with my audio sensors enhanced. I can see so many things in the HUD and I don't feel the urge to throw up. A tiny icon shows me Kom'rk's view. I can close up on that and even switch between normal sight and enhanced.

I am all but invisible with normal sight. My figure blends into the shadows of the trees and their trunks. I return to my own view and wonder what I will look like when winter has truly come. Like an easy target, I guess. I adjust my audio sensors down and start to move slowly. It is not easy to be quite in these boots.

I creep up behind him and loosen my garrotte. I have two now, one in my hair and one wrapped around my upper left arm. You can't easily get the bucket off in the middle of a fight. Kom'rk is ready for my approach but he comments me anyway. He's perfect, so what can I do?

I take of the helmet and inhale the heavily scented air. Kom'rk does the same and the last light paints his face with deep shadows. I lean against him with clanking plates. They are heavy, especially after a long day. Even if it's just full density for the front torso plates and durasteel for the rest. Kom'rk looks like a tank in full kit, unstoppable. I love him.

And I have to hurt him. But I can't think of any day that will make it easier, or better or less painful. And each day I keep my mouth shut, I feel, I betray him.

"What is it, _cyar'ika_?" He puts an arm around me. The screeching of metal on metal shouldn't be so reassuring.

"Bad news." I want to hide my face against his body. But I have to face this. His eyes are black on deep pools of shadow. He deserves better, but he loves me. So he deserves the best from me. I reach up to his face, but there is too much glove between our skins to make it reassuring.

"I can't have children." I have no idea how else to say that. No words can couch it soft enough so it doesn't hurt.

His hand captures mine. More armour and gloves. He doesn't ask if there's no other chance, no other method or any other way. He says nothing.

I am not sure if I wish he'd say something; I don't know what he could say. Nothing I can think of would make me feel better. And I can't think of anything to make him feel better.

In the end he simply pulls me tight and we stand like that for a long time. Dusk deepens and the light seeps away though the tree tops. With the environment seals open, the cold starts to creep into my limbs. But I hold on to him tightly. Nothing else matters.

He drops his head to rest his forehead against mine. It is quite a slouch for him. Usually, he'd just lift me up.

I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close. I wished there was anything I could do. Anything that would help right here and right now. But we're alone in the night that has bled to black from blue.

"They're all dead," I whisper finally. "And if you want, I'm a bioengineer-"

I don't get any further, being crushed against him and lifted off the ground. It is all the answer I get. It is enough.


	34. Chapter 30

Family is more than blood. This I will live by. This I will hold true above anything. Family is more than blood. But that doesn't mean blood has to cease to matter. I can have both, the best of both worlds. And I do.

The vheh'yaim starts to feel empty. Everybody seems to be out on a mission or other most of the time. Mereel exempt but we are glad to have him locked up with us. I think work on another safe house has begun. But the evacuation doesn't wait until then. Niner is already gone, having taken Riye and Sal with him. Fi and Parja are about to leave with Bevin and Lance.

The three silent commandos don't seem to care what happens next. They stay around Kyrimorut most of the time. I guess they're some kind of guard for us, despite Mereel.

"What do you want to do with your life?" I ask Jerem.

"I'm good at blowing stuff up," he says. "So there's always a career for me in mining."

I think he tries to be funny so I smile. "I heard they do that in space too. Blowing up whole asteroids for the metals inside."

"Nah." He shakes his head. "Wouldn't be the same without the boom."

"What did you think you'd do?" I can't believe they didn't have a plan apart from getting out.

He shrugs. "Moki-," he pauses. "He'd have know. He had all the crazy ideas."

I get the feeling they are still not over losing Moki. I can't help them. I can only make sure they can suffer from his loss a lot longer. Somehow it doesn't sound fair looked at like this.

"At least we'll have enough time to figure something out then," Jerem says. "He wouldn't have wanted for us to throw away our lives on the next best front-line."

I think of Cov and his nuna, Fi in the workshop, Maze doing whatever a clone captain and a former Jedi general may get up to. "I'm sure you'll find something," I say. "If not, you can always become a philosopher. They only sit around with a brooding look and spout wise words now and then. I could make you a list."

He laughs.

That is good enough for me. It is a sound I will never get tired of. There is a lot of those in my life now. And not only sounds, things, everything. I want to embrace everything and live it to the fullest. Maybe the prospect of losing this home has something to do with that. That and the knowledge of how fragile everything is. I want forever to be now.

"_Laamyc'shya! Iviin'c'shya_!" Those words are not of harm any longer. I have made them mine; I have made them his and the past is drowned in another shade of black. The beskad is leaving dents in my armour and bruises on my body. But I smile like a wolf.

"No! No, no, no, no. No! How often do I have to tell you..." Walon's voice crashes over me like a waterfall of reprimands as he pushes and shoves my limbs into their correct positions. "You have to be exact in your stance. You can't afford the smallest of mistakes with such a heavy weapon."

He sounds as if he was about to whack me a few for incompetence. I can almost believe it, but he calls me _ad'ika_ when he thinks I can't hear. I call him _ba'vodu_ when we are alone. I call him Walon when we are not and the others have stopped giving it a second thought.

I am happy.

.

.

.

* * *

_Laamyc'shya! Iviin'c'shya_! - Higher! Faster!


	35. Chapter 31

"Qail!" My call echoes through the lab. I hold the Petri dishes in her direction with shaking hands.

"Is that-," she begins.

"Yes." I don't wait for the whole question. We stare at the tissue cultures between us.

It is Mereel who pulls us back to reality. He takes the Petri dish and shoos us to our work places. "Well, get cracking ladies!" His voice is trembling with excitement.

"The control samples," I get out. "Please."

He brings them and they are the same as always. Soft tissue covers all of the dish. I stare back at our test run. Then I begin to work, barely noticing Qail bent over her own display already. For a fleeting moment I pray that Kom'rk won't come to remove me. But he is away and the tests only take an hour.

Qail and I stare at each other wide-eyed. "Beta run," I say and she nods.

"Accounting for all variables," she says and I nod.

"I'll sketch the meganuclease," Mereel says. "Just in case."

We nod. Just in case. My heart beats in my throat and I don't know if I can handle the equipment because I am still so shaken. I close my eyes and take calming breaths. I can have anxiety later. I won't let it drag me down. Not now. I draw darkness around me like a cloak. Not later. The black fit snug around my shoulders. Not ever. I jump high until my feet touch ground.

Then I prepare the new cultures with calm hands.

We sit and stare when we are finished. Now we can only wait.

I don't know what to do with myself while waiting. I get under everybody's feet. I try to help Atin and Laseema as they pack up their last things. They are leaving with Jusik and Arla. The crazy woman is surprisingly lucid.

I talked to her in Basic. I talked to her in Mando'a. I mixed the languages until they were a viscid pulp sticky enough to express the horrors of the world, lucid enough to shine on the small moments of grace. I spelt out all my nightmares in detail and sometimes she fell asleep too caught up in them to have space left for her own atrocities.

And Jusik looked at me with liquid eyes. He's a Jedi, maybe he could see the images in my mind. Maybe, because he's a Jedi, he could see them more clearly than I do. I don't care. I have a crimson past but what is more important is my brilliantly black future that strides through the house on his long legs, his face grim and angular.

And now Arla seems fine enough to be among people again."Jusik is such a good healer," I say.

She nods. "He takes away all the bits that hurt. I can't remember what they were." She tilts her head.

I won't tell her what the hurting bits were. I know we are better off without them. "That's fine," I assure her. "You're not missing out on anything."

"How do you know?" She looks worried.

"I have my own hurtful bits," I tell her. "I could do without them."

"Why don't you?"

I have no answer. It never occurred to me. "I have nothing else," I finally say. "I think."

By now I might very well have a lot of things to substitute those memories with. I watch the ship leave in silence. Why do I still have those memories? Who would I be without them? Maybe I should have asked Jusik both questions before he left.

Instead I ask myself. I know abut my mother now. Not much and from a time long before she met my father and even longer before she had me. I don't know how much alike the girl from Walon's childhood is to the woman that was my mother. None of his words trigger any recollection. Maybe I could claim that instead of the times of pain and abuse.

The memories are not fresh. I have mothballed them with my fear during my second stay with _kyr'tsad_. There is only so much you can do to a body. Everything ends. Bit by bit I have taken their power. I laughed at them. I have claimed the armour and made their language that of my people. My clan. My family.

I wonder what any of that would mean to me should I lose the memories it sprang from. No, I think I will keep my painful past. It is mine and mine alone. I can share it with those I chose. And those I chose take care of it and me. I look into the sky. The ship is long gone and there is only an endless blue above.


	36. Chapter 32

The Empire has finally decided that it will not wait until it has finished its own business before coming after us. Maybe it has something to do with the sudden disappearance of Darman and Rede. We still haven't heard anything from Darman. I don't think we will. But Kal doesn't give up hope. He never does where his boys are concerned.

"He'll come around. We just have to make sure he knows where to find us when it happens."

"We'll take care of that." Ordo looks at Jaing who nods imperceptibly.

The Nulls are the last to stick around apart from our three guards, Jerem, Silas and Fi, who don't know what to do with themselves. I wish I could do more for them. They seem to be nice guys.

Cov and his brothers moved over to Rav's place with Ruu. The livestock can't be moved often, so they'll relocate directly. And the six brothers are now away more often than not. Corr is running wild with them. Kal is sitting in a web of highly competent people who are not depending on him much any longer. He worries but Ny brings him cookies and pats his arm.

"That's supposed to happen," she says. "They grow up and make you feel useless."

But there is something only he can do and that is working his contacts. "Shysa says the Empire put the Death Watch on our trail."

I sit up a little straighter and my fingers curl tightly around my cup. "_Kyr'tsad_?"

He nods. "Nothing to worry yet. We are not really a secret, but those in the know know better than to talk to them. It will take them time to find the location of Kyrimorut."

"Not as long as it would take the Empire." Walon drums his fingers on the table. He was away with A'den and Prudii. As with Kom'rk and Kal, I do not ask questions about it. I have learnt that much.

I stare into my cup. _Kyr'tsad_. Again. "Let them come." I didn't realise I said that out loud. But all heads turn to me. So I just say it again. "Let them come. I will be right here." I grab my cup and retire into the lab. There I stare at the counter counting down until the last round of tissue cultures is finished.

_Kyr'tsad_.

Too bad they don't have their own genome you can target. I'd be _good_ at that.

"You good, _vod'ika_?" Mereel swings himself onto a chair the wrong way round, resting his arms on the backrest. "You look ready to take the skin off some _shabuire_."

"I will." I don't smile. "Metal or not."

"And here I was thinking Vau the old _chakaar_ was teaching you how to fight ice-cold." He rests his chin on his arms regarding me.

"Oh, he does." I drop my knife from the forearm holster and it dances between my fingers. "So cold that it burns."


	37. Chapter 33

"Wayii!" I call it at the top of my lungs and don't care what anybody will think. There's not many around anyway. Kal and Ordo, Besany, Corr, Walon and our triple guard. I feel a pang that Kom'rk is not home, but I'll comm him and tell him as soon as – I don't even know.

I bounce into the karyai, half singing. "We did it, we did it we did it." Kal falls prey to a hug first. He's so surprised, he doesn't offer any resistance as I pull him up from his chair. "Did it," I laugh into his ear and dance away.

Besany laughs back at me and Ordo almost doesn't let go. His face is full of questions. I allow myself to include Walon in the hugging of everybody and he smiles when I entangle myself from his embrace. Corr takes it in stride, but Silas is perplexed, Jerem and Fi are on duty.

When I am done Qail has already begun to explain. I bounce around the room unable to contain my excitement. I feel like rolling over the floor in a wild tangle with Mird who is almost yapping at my side. Finally Mereel puts both hands on my shoulders and keeps me in place. "In short," he calls over my shoulder, "she's saying we can create an antidote."

Kal's face lights up with a million sunrises. I can't believe how much that is worth everything. He looks genuinely happy. I stop bouncing.

"When will it be ready?" he asks.

"Oh, months!" I can't help the enthusiasm in my voice, though his face falls. This is precision work where one wrong base pair can mean the difference between success and utter disaster. It is not his field of expertise.

"You can't make it any faster?" He wants this so bad. I feel like hugging him again.

"We could start handing it out in a few weeks." I hate to shatter his high hopes. "But it wouldn't be _safe_. We still have to do many tests to check it works and doesn't kill. Those samples were the most simple of tissues. What about organs, blood or marrow? We need to check how it works on brain cells-"

"You have brain cells?" Kal interrupts me.

I open my mouth. I close it again. I nod.

"From where?" His voice is dangerously soft.

From who would have been a more accurate question, but I don't correct him. It's going to be hard enough on him anyway.

"Rede." I want nothing more than to look at my hands but I force myself to meet his gaze. "I asked Walon for samples when he, when he – oh, you know. I am not sorry, _ba'vodu_."

He looks at me. The he turns to look at Walon who shrugs.

"She's thinking ahead. Good thinking, if you ask me."

"I asked him," I repeat. "I commed him and asked him for samples, _ba'vodu_. Of everything."

I am a bioengineer of the highest tier. I can grow anything from a few samples. Otherwise Walon could just have lugged the corpse back. But that hadn't felt right. Samples were fine. Samples were just small bits. Nobody really misses samples. Even of everything. And certainly not when they're dead.

I watch the emotions flicker over Kal's face. It is clear he wants to place some of the blame on Walon. But he really cannot. "I had to," I press on. "It was that or take samples from live specimen."

The use of science lingo for his boys snaps him out of it. "You wouldn't dare."

"I think I would have had many volunteers," I object. "But it doesn't matter, because I have all we need. All we have to do is run the tests and make sure nothing can go wrong. _Ba'vodu_, I cannot be wrong about any of this."

He nods. About this we agree. Mistakes are unacceptable.


	38. Walon Vau: Almost Good Enough

Walon Vau did not feel good about leaving Tera behind with Qail and occasionally Mereel. But they could not move the lab yet. And neither woman would hear about pausing their work. Jerem, Silas and Fi were good at the perimeter, but that meant that if anybody got past them and behind the fake trail set up, Tera would be on her own.

Qail did not worry him much. She was her own woman and made her own choices. It was Tera who was at risk. She had the brains and the attitude, definitely _mandokarla_. But she also had a deplorable lack of any kind of training. It was nothing a few years would remedy. He was doing what he could, but he had to admit that she was not learning fast enough to protect herself against _kyr'tsad_ any day soon.

It was nagging at the back of his mind. Relentless like a gdan, never really letting off. How could he be unable to teach Tera fast enough, to make her understand faster, progress faster?

_You'll never be able to protect her. _His father's voice.

_It will never be enough._ His mother's voice.

_It's okay Walon. _Sheena's voice. But it was drowned out by the other two.

It had taken him eight years to create invincible fighters. Eight years and those had been long years indeed. Walon regretted that he could not fall back on his usual methods. They might not be pretty, but by the stars, they worked.

"I'd destroy you," he said. "And from the remaining pieces you'd become a stronger person." Looking at the tiny black streak in armour before him, he wondered if he would be able to really do that. To her.

"I think my two Ks will object." She smiled, it seemed almost wistful.

She was a good kid, knew her weaknesses and how many of them there were. She was willing to do whatever it took. But she was right. Her two Ks, Kal and Kom'rk, would most definitely object. Not to mention she was needed in the laboratory. He shrugged. "Up to you, _ad'ika_."

Tera looked at her hands for a long moment. Then she shook her head. "It'd never fly. But should I get myself killed due to incompetence, it will not be your fault." She touched her fingertips to his cheek shortly. "Promise."

She absolved him of crimes not yet committed. Walon did not like it. "Is that what you'll tell them?" He asked. "That it is not my fault?"

"No." She smiled again. "I am telling _you_."

Another one below the belt.

"It's okay that you don't really try to kill me." Her fingers played with the hilt of her beskad. "I forgive you."

"Say that again when I'm through with you today." He had worn this growl on many occasions. It used to inspire fear.

But she laughed into his face, snapping her helmet from her belt and punching it over her head. "You are an old man, Walon Vau, living off the glory of your younger days. You don't scare me." Her beskad went up in a perfect angle.

"I'll show you old." His blade whipped around without a warning and caught her almost off guard. But she blocked the hit and tried to sidestep it's vector to use his momentum against him. The tip of his beskad slipped under her guard and came to rest against her neck.

Almost.

Almost good enough.

And there was nothing he could do about it.


	39. Chapter 34

It doesn't rain but it pours.

Kal is tense because of things happening in our new home and leaves with Ordo. Besany is helping Jaing confusing some more of our digital trails. A'den and Kom'rk are doing some asset acquisition; the way he grins when they leave, I am pretty sure they'll get me a lab.

"I want a Sienar Advanced one." I can make pull-ups on his chest plates. I feel ridiculously light.

"You are a spoilt little _ge'verd_." He kisses me. "Do you know how expensive those are?"

"No," I breathe. "But you know I only accept the best. _Ratiin_." I bury my fingers in his hair. "No '_ge_' about it."

When he puts me down and the bucket on I can still taste his smile on my lips. We can leave soon and finish our work in a safe place. And now Walon is also about to leave, too.

"Why the hurry?" I ask and watch as he stocks up on weapons of all kinds.

"One of my squads," he replies softly. "A difficult extraction."

"_Jate'kara_."

"I will need it."

"No. You're good." I smile. "_Jatne_."

"_Be jatne_." His lips are a cold line.

"And you're not alone." He is taking Prudii and Corr with him, or maybe the other way round. It is difficult to know sometimes.

"You take care." It's definitely an order.

"Yessir." I salute. "You too."

The thin line curls into half a smile for a second and he nods.

That leaves, Qail, Mereel and me to huddle in the lab while Jerem, Silas and Fi walking the perimeter. They scare me a little. They never complain. They never say anything much as if they were still working out what they were actually doing here.

"They are waiting for an epiphany to strike them," Mereel says, "and tell them the meaning of life."

"I thought that's the one thing you were raised with?" Qail raises a brow.

"Oh we are. But that certainty is to fight and die in battle. Take that away and you have our three walking logs." He shrugs. "They'll get over it. Eventually."

"Can we do anything to help?" I want to know.

"Nothing short of reviving their sarge would do the trick," he replies. "Can you do that?"

I think for a moment. "I might surprise you, _ner vod_. Of course it would be easier with an image file of his memories." I chew on my lip. "Or we could just do a complete reboot-"

"Ter'ika?"

"Yes, Mer'ika?"

"You are scaring me."

"Now isn't that an interesting change." I blow him a raspberry.

.

.

.

ge'verd - almost warrior

ratiin - always

ge - almost


	40. Chapter 35

"We have incoming." Silas announces over the comm.

Mereel is up in a second. "Dress up, and secure everything," he orders. Then he returns his attention to the comm. "How many, where?"

It's the last we hear as he leaves to gear up. I pity the fools who try to take our home, even with only so few of us here. Qail and I secure the samples and results. We raze the mainframe and sick the eraser on it that Jaing has given us. Nothing of our research is ever to leave the clan.

After we finish the lab, I get myself to my room. There is not even time to stare at the armour and muse about the implications and stuff like that. At least I don't entangle myself in the straps. I pat my beskad goodbye. It's not a useful weapon in a fight. Not for me. Instead I check on my knives and grab my blasters. I blink the HUD into life. I feel foreign.

Qail has barricaded herself into the safe room with the data. It really is safe. Nothing short of an assault from space can breach that place. Once the doors close a distress signal issues itself embedded in white noise. Kal will get it. The clan will be back.

"Seven," Mereel says. "Splitting up, too. They have contained three, but they're all armoured up so it's taking time. Stay put."

I nod and make my way to the lab. They will expect a last stand here. So they will get it. It doesn't matter there is nothing of interest left there at all. I wince, thinking of all the aborted tests. It will take time to duplicate those. We will have to grow new cultures first. But I feel safe because Qail is locked up with all that is needed for success.

I can't watch Mereel from his viewpoint icon. I can only wait and listen in to the channel. I realise that I am about to drum my fingers. I shake my head and try to focus. There are four competent men out there protecting us. The probability anybody will even get into the house are slim. I am just a last line of deceit. I think of Kom'rk. He doesn't like it. But neither do I. And he is out there risking his head every other day.

This is not the time to think unkind thoughts about that. I drop him a message instead. _Kar't__a__yli darasuum._ I guess I am scared after all.

"_Shab_, they go backup!" Fi sounds upset over the comm. Jerem makes a crude joke about backsides and getting things up in them before they cut the chatter in favour of killing some intruders. Their numbers show that they expected to find the house full. That is good because it means their intel is bad. That leaves four for Mereel. Except if the backup does come from a different direction. I relax the grip around the blasters. It won't help any if I break them before I can use them.

I crank up the audio sensors and realise somebody is indeed sneaking around the karyai. I hope it is Mereel laying a trap for the attackers. But the way the red dot dances through the virtual environment doesn't support this theory. I swallow. Who do people pray to in moments like this?

Then I get two red dots instead of one. They slowly make their way through the rooms and halls. They have kit like me. They know I am here. And yes, I am scared. I wished I could hide behind Kom'rk. I wish I could call Kal and have him deal with this. The waiting is the worst I can remember doing.

_Ice-cold,_ I tell myself. _They took your past. They took your future. Now it is your time to take some of that as well. _The cold fusion beneath my heart sputters into life. Kill them, it says. Kill them all.

"Two down." Mereel's voice is like a shadow inside the helmet. "Stats, Theta?"

"Three down and another two pinned." The voice is full of static. "Five on the loose."

I can hear Mereel curse in all languages he knows. It is rather impressive. I chuckle and that makes the two dots pause. So they can hear me but not the men? Funny. Must be some sort of short-range decrypting trick.

They take up positions besides the door. It bangs open with a blast and a small item rolls into the lab. I watch it with interest. My displays flicker. The lab's equipment fizzles out in a cacophony of electricity. EMP grenade. Funny. I should probably be more afraid. But I am not. My kit is still working and I feel the urge to thank Kom'rk for the exquisite gear he got me in various ways I know he'll enjoy.

Maybe I was thinking in too much detail there, because the two armoured figures jumping into the room with raised weapons do surprise me. I blink, but of course they can't see that. Then I have the good sense to try and hide.

Unfortunately, I try to hide behind the desk. They shoot it into pieces. A blaster bolt hits the main computer and I can hear a woman's voice berate her companion. She wears grey and red. Her companion wears green and black. I wear a careless smile, because I don't feel as if I'm all there.

I get up and level my blaster at them. Then I remember the EMP. An experimental shot proves that unlike my kit, the blasters don't bounce. What a pity. Of course their blaster will still work perfectly. It isn't fair. I think of the small weapons hidden on me, but I'd have to be much closer before I can use any of them. Oh well, will do. I take a step backwards. I drop the useless blasters and fumble the knife out of my boot.

"Ain't that just cute?" he laughs. He thinks I'm stupid and useless, beat already. Suddenly I love the second face of the buy'ce. "I have a much better plan." He definitely plans to make some fun of me. Good. Can do. With a swift motion he draws a beskad and points it a me. "How about this?"

Then he throws the beskad and I can hear their laughter as I automatically catch the weapon and clumsily drop my knife in the process. I let it pull me forwards and unbalance me a little. The weight is reassuring in my hands and I keep my head down as if staring at the blade.

Sometimes I wonder why even other Mandos fall for this. I have 360° all-round vision in my helmet. Just because my visor looks glued to a specific point that doesn't mean anything. But they are sure I am too new to armour and fighting. And they are certain my electronics are fried.

They approach with such careless neglect that I am sorry I can't kill both of them immediately. But I will get only one surprise hit with the beskad. The rest has to be silence. And then I realise I don't really have to kill them both immediately if I can incapacitate them long enough to kill them.

The smile of the wolf is back on my lips. But it is silent and invisible to them. They are dead and don't even know it. I sway under the weight of the beskad again. _Come closer; come just a little bit closer._ And no, it does not matter if they come at me from both sides.

When they are about two paces from me, I stumble. I let myself drop forwards to one knee and before they realise I did not actually fall, the beskad whips out in a quick eight-sweep catching both of them in the unprotected hollow of their knees.

As they go down I rise up and my anger rises with me. I bring the blade around the throat of the green armoured kyr'tsad to my left, gripping him around the waist so he doesn't topple all the way. And as I rip through his neckseal and neck with the heavy weapon. I use his body as a shield. It's pure instinct. I am armoured. I am a tank.

The grey armoured bitch has her blaster up and fires, but I am well hidden behind her friend and my own plates. I grab the gun of the now dead man and fire at her. Her beskar'gam absorbs the lethalness but not the shock. She sways and begins to fall. Her legs cannot hold her. She tilts backwards. I wonder what she sees as I bring her comrade along as a shield. I drop the sharp side of the beskad into her neck.

She gurgles and dies.

I lie down beside the bodies and try not to throw up in my helmet. It taakes time. When that is achieved, I slowly get up. The beskad is stuck in her spine and it takes some pulling to rip it free. I use it as a crutch to get myself upright. Blood is dripping down my armour, seeping into the overall. But the red doesn't show on the black-and-black.

I struggle out of the lab. Only when I reach the door, do I remember my helmet. Funny. I call out for the stats.

"We got five and another two," Silas reports.

"Got the other four," Mereel says. "Leaves the two you got, Ter'ika." He sounds awfully proud.

"Sweeping the perimeter," Jerem adds. "No need getting careless."

I nod though they can't see it, of course. "Tell the two in the lab about that."

Laughter echoes through the channel. I am not sure if I join. I feel so drained. I feel like crumbling into a heap on the floor and never move again. But when I try that, the plates poke me uncomfortably in all the wrong places.

Qail pulls me up. She looks grim. "I sent Kal the all clear," she says. "But we need to move."

I can only nod. Then I throw up in the bucket after all.


	41. Chapter 36

"You did well, _vod'ika_. Very well, indeed." Mereel is trying to cheer me up as I sit shaking in the kitchen, my hands curled around a cup of tea.

"They're dead and you're alive. Looks like result to me," Silas agrees.

They don't see the problem with that. I am not longer dripping blood all over Kal's floors. My armour is shiny clean again already, because it's just so calming to have something to do with your hands. The helmet is as new. But I was forbidden to set up the lab again. I am supposed to calm down and get some sleep. I only want to do something. Anything.

When I blink and darkness descends, it is streaked with red. It is not crimson and makes me shake in a different way. That was me. Those have been my hands. And they have killed two people. _Kyr'tsad_. But still people. The realities are difficult to keep straight. I take another sip of the tea.

"But tomorrow," I say, "tomorrow we get the lab running again. We had the cure. I am pretty sure we did."

"We can't do anything with it until we perfect the silencing shot," Qail says. "And there's still the zinc problem in the chemical saturation. Another day without the cure won't delay us any."

She keeps talking science at me until I actually calm down. Somewhere down the road, Mereel joins her. The three commandos leave them to it. We still have a perimeter. I need to thank them. But like everything, that is postponed until tomorrow.

I curl up in the corner of a bed too big for one. My back is pressed against the wall and I don't close my eyes. The beskad lies over my feet. I am safe. But I am alone. I drop Kom'rk a line but he doesn't reply. Probably busy; can't blame him. Maybe sleeping; good for him. I wait. I feel the wall against my back. I feel the blanket around me. It smells of Kom'rk. I bury my face in it.

I am almost asleep when Walon calls.

"_Ba'vodu_!"

"I woke you?"

"Not really." I rub at my eyes. "I am not sure I can sleep."

"Looks promising from where I stand." He tries a smile, but it is tired and drawn. "I heard you had a spot of trouble?"

I nod. "I killed two people, _ba'vodu_." It's barely a whisper. "I have never killed anybody before."

"So how does it feel?"

"I don't know." I feel like shaking again. "It was so easy. And, and," I take a deep breath, "and now they are dead. Because I killed them. I myself." I smile creeps onto my face. "With a beskad, too."

He laughs. Walon Vau actually laughs and it's a sound like velvet-covered marble. "You'll be fine."

I hear the word unspoken. I like that. "Yes, _ba'vodu_, I will. Thanks to you."

He smiles into the ensuing silence and I feel my eyes grow heavy. "Thank you," I say again. I feel I can sleep now. But as I manage to remove the beskad from the bed, something nags at the back of my mind. I should call again. There was something about him, something that I should ask about. Something that should go both ways. Tomorrow.


	42. Chapter 37

The first thing I do the next morning, though is call Kom'rk. He left messages while I was sleeping. Many messages, some hoping I was finally sleeping. I love him. It's the first thing I say when he answers the call. I also love the smile appearing on his face immediately.

"_Su cuy'gar._"

"_Bal'ban_." I can't help grinning.

"_Bal'ban_," he agrees. "How are you?"

"Better. Sleep is good. Food is good. I will be good." I wish I could touch him, just graze my fingers over his skin. "The kit is better than good. Thank you. It saved my life."

I relate the events in a short version that leaves out all the vomiting and shaking. Kom'rk laughs as well when he hears how the two _kyr'tsade_ found their end. But his laughter is raucous. I can't wait to have him back and thank him properly. My fingers go right through the blue-tinted hologram.

He will be back in a few days. He doesn't spill a word about the equipment he got, but I can see he is pleased. Best of the best.

I have breakfast and watch as Qail and Mereel set up the lab again. Walon is not answering his comm, so I just leave a message asking if he's alright. Then I help and try not to think about killing people. I try to think about saving them. It's a lot less spectacular. But more rewarding. I listen to Mereel humming with one ear while I adjust the chemical cocktail we want to use. We'll have to make sure the relevant elements are available in the cells. It's fiddly.

"I think I got the telomer length right this time." Qail projects her result into the middle of the lab.

We stare at it in scrutinising silence. It does look right. "Let it run," I say. "You have something to spare, Mer'ika?"

He doesn't even have to look it up. Mereel just nods. "Only for the smallest sample size, though. The rest still needs growing."

It doesn't matter that it is the smallest size. Nothing matters as we throw the components together. All of them for the first time. If this works, if this _works_... I can't finish the thought. There is too much hope in it.

.

.

.

Su cuy'gar – Hello. Lit. You're still alive.

Bal'ban. - Indeed.


	43. Chapter 38

It is four years to the days since the battle of Geonosis. I stand outside the vheh'yaim at the place that should have been a monument. There is nobody here to say names. I have no names. Qail has no names. Mereel has names he doesn't share.

Kal has called but won't be back for another day. Everything is in motion and if we can only hold out a little longer... Of course we can. We're only five, but we can do anything. The first run with the cure was successful. What can the galaxy throw at us that we can't overcome?

Apart from finding the right doses of chemicals to give to the clones before filling them up with violent DNA. Too much and they drop, too little and they drop as well. It's walking on an invisible tightrope with no net.

Qail says it's fine. We have the basics and in case of dire need we could use it. Perfect would be better. And what are a few weeks? We'll get it all together after the move, complete with sick rooms. And we will need them, because, no matter how perfect we make it, changing the DNA in a living body will always have side effects. We hope to get it down to severe fever, disorientation and maybe some hallucinations.

"We have incoming." Jerem's voice this time. "Airborne, headed directly for the house.

I sigh. I want to weep and rage. How dare they? How fucking dare they make us destroy another batch of the cure, another attempt at perfection? How dare they steal more time from the men I love? I clench my fists.

"Vessel identification?" Mereel is already up and running.

I feel less enthusiastic about donning my armour again. I can't hear Jerem's reply, but Mereel comes to a sudden stop. I want to ask him what happened. But he starts running again, this time headed directly for the door. I look at Qail, but she shrugs.

It sounds as if the ship is setting down directly on top of the house. It certainly is not safe. I wonder if anybody is watching. "We're compromised anyway," I say. "Let's pack up. Anything's run its course is it. The rest will have to wait."

She nods and we get to work. It's not the expected flurry of deleting and destroying. We take time to sort and file all results. Qail prepares the transport boxes. Some of the samples need to stay frozen. We don't know for how long. I hope Kom'rk got me my Sienar Advanced lab. I don't know for what else I would ever need it. But those are pieces of art.

"All clear," Mereel's voice comes over the comm. "It's Dar."

Darman? I mouth at Qail as if somebody could us. She shakes her head, as perplexed as I am. I make my way to the door as well. There is a ship sitting close to the house. Mereel is already putting camouflage netting over it. A man looking almost exactly is helping him. I blink. This is unexpected.

But there is no explanation. When they finish, the two vanish into the ship just to return with Kad and what I assume are his things. He waves his hands and babbles when he sees me. I don't know how to take that least of all. I can't remember making any impression on him.

I follow them into the karyai where Qail is already waiting. Our faces are studies in incomprehension. "At least you're not the Death Watch." It's probably stupid to say, but I can't think of anything else.

"No." He looks around. "Are you alone?"

"About," I reply. "I wanted to recall in Jerem and Silas from the perimeter." I look at Mereel. "We need to leave."

"Agreed, do that."

"We're almost ready," Qail offers. "Just waiting for some more runs to finish and document before we freeze the last samples."

"The cure?" Darman's eyes light up. "You have it? Can I see it."

"Not much to see," Mereel says. "Come along."

Darman puts Kad down who immediately begins to re-explore his surroundings. I have an eye on him while I call Jerem and Silas. Qail gets something to eat and drink from the kitchen. We wonder whether or not to wake up Fi. Later, we decide. They work overlapping eight-hour shifts. It's hard enough on them as it is already.

"So you really did it." Darman's face is glowing when he returns.

"Yeah," I agree. "Almost there. You want to call Kal this time?"

He fidgets. "Not really. I hoped it would be a surprise. Somehow."

"It certainly is," Qail says. "And if you feel like offering explanations, we're all ears."

Darman doesn't feel like explaining anything right now though. He almost jumps when the door opens and though they are his brothers, he eyes Jerem and Silas warily.

Mereel does the introductions. Funny that a clone should be the most socially competent among us. But he does it perfectly. I don't think I'll ever get skills like that. Not that I see many occasions for it in my future. I realise I have not looked any further than creating the cure. My future is a complete blank afterwards. Well, not complete. There's Kom'rk and Kal and Walon and the clan. That's not actually an occupation, though.

My comm beeps, but it's just a message from Walon letting me know it's nothing he can't handle. That wasn't my question, but what did I expect?

It's an overall uneasy evening and I am glad when I can escape into my room. It is still too big and too empty. My armour lies neatly, clean and ready for use. I run my fingers over the plates. Is that how I want to spend the rest of my live? Living in plates? I don't even know. But I know I want to spend the rest of my life with Kom'rk and my family. So there is that.

It is enough of a security to fall asleep on.


	44. Chapter 39

I am woken by Mereel swearing loudly in all languages of the galaxy. He's also calling for me and Qail which is probably what woke me. But first and foremost he is swearing. As I approach I can make out Darman's name which is in an of itself probably not a swearword. Yet. I wonder what stupidity the commando has committed now.

Stupidity doesn't even begin to cover it. Mereel is kneeling next to the bed in which Darman lies. Or spasms and hallucinates, not to mentions runs a very high fever. An empty syringe is beside his bed. Oh no. Stupid is nowhere near this.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I can't think of anything else.

"He must have taken it some hours ago," Mereel says. I wonder where he gets his calm from. "He's starting to deteriorate badly now."

I can imagine. No chemicals, no silencing, and a prototype cure. The man must be crazy. Did he think he'd be strolling out with nothing but a bump on his butt?

It doesn't matter what he was thinking. He's out of everything now, his eyes rolling wildly. Mereel has difficulties holding him down. I should be thinking, but my brain seems to be shut down. What does Darman need now? What was the fucking idea behind all this. It's my _shabla_ cure! I should know.

Then I run to the next tub and start filling it with water while I call for Qail. The woman can sleep like a stone. It was very useful but is annoying now. In my mind lists of chemicals and elements scroll past. They sort themselves into three groups and I rush off. I begin to dump them into the water, anything soluble. Anything non-lethal. The rest is a problem to consider later.

"Get him out of his clothes and in here!" I shout in Mereel's direction. It was far from perfect, but the best I could come up with on no notice.

Not much later he arrives and dumps the naked man I the tub. "Will that do?"

I shrug. "It's not even everything he needs. And I don't know if it'll go through the layers fast or at all."

"You don't know."

"You can make him swallow some," I say. "It is all non-lethal doses."

"But is that enough?"

I don't know what he expects me to say. I was one of our main problems right now. But he pushes Darman's head under the surface anyway until the man takes a few mouthfuls.

That is when Qail finally arrives. She takes in the scene and starts swearing herself. "We'll never have enough of the silencing shot."

"Well, grow some!" Mereel snaps.

"Where?" She snaps right back. "On trees? You know how this stuff works."

We're all on edge. Jerem, Silas and Fi poke their heads into the fresher.

"You three, with me!" Qail orders and sweeps away in the direction of the lab. I can't take my eyes of Darman who has stopped jerking and splashing water around. Instead he's shaking ferociously and moaning softly. I am scared he'll die. This is the second time he is here and again I messed it all up.

"Not your fault," Mereel says. "Who would have thought he'd dome something that crazy."

I can't even tell myself I should have known. I don't know Darman at all. Maybe he wanted to take the shot and vanish again with his son. Maybe it was some kind of penance. If he survives, I won't care if I never find out.

"Kad is crying so do something." Qail returns with three clones armed with a plethora of syringes and hypos. Mereel takes the hint and leaves. If Darman hadn't been so out of everything, he might have felt like being rolled over a porcupine repeatedly. But I get the approach.

"Good thinking, Qail." She's always been the smart one. "How much of the silencing shot do we have?"

"Not enough for a person half his size." She pulls back the syringe with a sigh. "I'm trying to hotbake some more, but I don't dare use the Arkanian Micro approach. If that explodes on us inside him," she jerks her head in Darman's direction. "Too risky."

Mereel returns holding Kad. The toddler is still making unhappy noises, but when he sees Darman he goes scarily quiet. He stretches out his hands and Mereel lowers him so he can touch his father. If Darman notices, it doesn't show.

"I'll call Kal." I can't stand it any longer.

"Already took care of that," Mereel says. "He knows we have a medical emergency. Though I didn't give him many details. The comms might be compromised long range."

True or not, that was good thinking. "Then I'll make a shitload of pancakes." I set off for the kitchen.

"Me too." Fi follows me. For a while we work in silence. The smell of fresh pancakes wafts through the room but doesn't make anything any better.

"Will he die?" Fi asks suddenly.

I stop and stare at my hands that clutch a whisk. "I don't know." I force myself to meet his gaze. "I just don't know."


	45. Chapter 40

Darman is bad. We keep giving him shots whenever we can, but it's a dangerous game. He's so weak. The chemical cocktail was devised for healthy men. It is not easy on the cells. The silencing is taking hold in some of him, mainly the torso and head. Qail made a point of putting the first shots there.

A guard of two is always at his side and often Kad is with them. I feel uneasy under his gaze. Does he know it is my fault this happened? Does he know I may be unable to save his dad? All the things I know and I am helpless as ever. Somehow the idea of killing people doesn't seem so difficult any more. There is a lot in life more difficult than pulling the trigger, or even the blade through a throat.

"Mij!" I hug the man desperately. But not for long because I have to make space for Qail.

"Let me see the patient," he demands, but he is gentle.

Qail describes the symptoms and the cause and the frown on Mij's face burrows itself deeper and deeper into his forehead. "He's had as much of the silencing shot as we planned to give, but it might be too little because he had the tDNA at work already. He's also low on many of the chemicals necessary for the switches and there is no way to give him more lead or zinc."

Darman is still in the tub. His skin has gone all wrinkly but we dare not remove him. Mereel and Silas are with him. Silas keeping a close eye on his vital signs and Mereel doing his best to amuse Kad. The child is focussed on his father though. He spares a glance and a smile for Mij, but that is it.

"I think he tries to be Bard'ika," Mereel says.

In a mad dash of hope, I pray Kad knows what he is doing, just in case he is doing something apart from gazing intently at his dad.

"I don't think that will be enough," Mij says, running a hand through his hair. "Though I wish Bardan was here to help. It doesn't look promising."

Then he gets to work and we make space around him. I escape into the kitchen to make shig and something to eat and be generally away from Darman. I am a coward. I am also crying, but nobody has to know.

I curl up in a corner of the kitchen to accept a call from Kom'rk. He can't reach through space to touch me and it hurts. I tell him what I dare. I mention the possibly compromised comms theory Mereel used.

He nods and his hand reaches towards me. I touch the bluish fingers with my own. I miss him. There is nothing he could do to help here, but I still wish he was here so I could just rely on him. "You're my strength," I say. "Don't get shot in irreparable places."

"You're a bioengineer," he replies. "I have a lot of leeway."

"Yes." I smile. "You are lucky."

"I am." He is serious and that makes me happy. I am lucky, too. Very, very lucky.


	46. Chapter 41

We don't think Darman will die any longer. We reduced the watch over him to one person. Kad still spends most of his time with his suffering father. He can't be convinced to do otherwise, or even distracted.

Qail keeps meticulous records about Darman's condition. It's probably bad manners but good science. His suffering might just as well help others to avoid it. He has definitely proved that nobody should try anything without the saturation and silencing.

We have also packed up everything because we had a lot of nervous energy and that was something useful to do with it. Mij's freighter is crammed full and so are the remaining two ships. We're last to go. I don't know where even now.

My two Ks keep checking on me, though Kal is checking on all of us. He insisted on visuals of Darman and my heart breaks for him. Mereel told me some of the history between those two. It's not pretty. But it is what it is and all we can do is make sure they get a shot at a future that between them may or may not be pretty again.

It is my turn to watch Darman. He looks very much better. He is still running a high fever, but he doesn't shake or jerk. Not very often, that is. We won't know how well he survived the procedure until he wakes up. When he wakes up. That is what we keep telling each other. Always 'when'.

"Dada!" Kad squirms on my lap.

I had been trying to play with him. I seem to be very bad at it. It hurts because I want to be good with children, after all I want some. "What is with your dad?" I ask and look at the man on the bed.

His dark hair clings to his head, drenched in sweat. I move a strand from his forehead, a motion practised often on a face so similar. I wince when I think that my cure might affect Kom'rk like this. I need to do better. A cold fist clenches around my heart. I need to do much better, because otherwise Mereel will suffer like this as well. And Jerem, and Silas and Fi who I really like.

During our watches Fi struck me as a very thoughtful, deliberate young man. He is making up his mind about his future and frowns when he looks at Darman. When I ask him, what he thinks about, he just shrugs. It obviously needs further thought.

"Da! Da!" Small hands reach towards the bed and I oblige the toddler, letting him touch his father. They say people can hear and feel things even when they're in a coma. Maybe having Kad near is in itself helping.

"Don't leave your son, Darman," I whisper.

The dark eyes snap open. I don't think he can see much, the pupils are dilated and glazed. Still I hold up Kad to where I hope Darman can see him. "_Gar ad olar. Ven'an jate._" I don't know what else to say.

Kad helps me out by babbling happily. I wish I could share his enthusiasm. Instead I comm Mij because I have absolutely no idea what to do. I'm a bioengineer, not a doctor. There's worlds of difference between this even if people don't seem to remember.

Mij enters the room in a half-run and I vacate my place beside the bed. Kad protests and I think Darman's eyes try to follow him.

"No worries, Kad'ika," I say. "We're not leaving. But Mij needs space. He needs to make sure your dada is fine."

At least that I what I hope. I can't tell how things look. Mij is looking into Darman's eyes, taking his pulse and doing doctor-y things I know nothing about.

"He needs water." He says when he finished the examination.

I nod. "Let's get dada something to drink, shall we, Kad'ika?" The toddler squirms. I have no idea how people handle them. It is all very complicated. I decide to complain to Kom'rk later.

"Here, I'll take him." Mereel whisks Kad from my arms and the child squeals with delight as he's swung through the air. Mereel's a natural with everybody. Life is unfair.

I hurry into the kitchen where I take one of the remaining cups. Everything not packed up will stay behind. Kal said the new place would be fully stocked. There's nothing we _need_ to take, but some things I want.

When I return Kad is sitting on the bed, his tiny fingers all over Darman's face. I wonder if that is good medicine, good parenting or something else I know nothing about.

"He is conscious but not responding to stimuli," Mij says. "That doesn't have to mean anything yet. You should probably get some samples to see if the process is finished. But first let's get some water into him."

I nod and watch Mereel and Mij as they sit up Darman. Kad takes the opportunity to crawl into his father's lap. With this _fait accompli_, Mereel just puts one of Darman's hands on his son while Mij slowly pours water into the man's mouth. For a moment nothing happens and we hold our breaths. Then Damran swallows and the world moves again.

"I'll comm Kal," I say. Finally some good news.

.

.

.

_Gar ad olar. Ven'an jate. - _Your son is here. All will be well.


	47. Chapter 42

There are few things as gratifying as seeing Kal happy. His features smooth out and you can watch time go backwards several years.

"We don't know any details yet," I admit. "But we hope to be able to move him now and leave here."

"We'll find a safehouse for him," Kal says. "I'll tell Bard'ika to meet you there."

"That's a great idea, _ba'vodu_." If anything has gone terribly wrong, Bardan is just who we'll need. Mij is a doctor, but he is not a magician. The Jedi is. "I'll give you a call when we're in space."

"Copy that. And," he hesitates a moment, "_vor'e_."

I feel it is much too early to thank me for anything. But I don't object because I don't want to ruin his mood. There is no need whatsoever to make him unhappier than absolutely necessary. I can still do that, when Darman turns out to be a vegetable in clone form.

"Fi and Tera will take the first ship then Jerem, Silas and Mij follow after I let with Qail, Dar and kad," Mereel explains. "Then we won't have to worry about getting our future shot to pieces in one go."

I worry about _us_ getting shot to pieces, but that is just what our lives are like. We don't even mention it anymore. Everything has been packed up. The karyai is empty because I insisted on taking the table along. It's such a beautiful thing, its top made from a single log. I don't want it to go to waste, or fall into the hands of _kyr'tsad_.

"He'll walk." Silas returns looking satisfied. "He's not talking or doing anything complicated, but if we pull him upright, he'll move his feet."

That will have to be enough. I am still scared that Darman is a human plant but if he is walking, Jusik can fix him. This is my mantra and I will stick with it.

"You got everything?" Qail doesn't mean my personal stuff. But then, I could ask her the same question.

"Yeah." I look around. "I don't want to go, Qail. This is my home."

"Not any longer." She sounds wistful herself. "Cheer up, we'll have another nice place with a nice lab soon enough. It's not the where that matters. It's who you're with."

She wants to cheer us both. I am not sure how well it works.

"So the two of us again, huh." Fi has armoured up and looks more than a tank in his gear.

"I only work with the best," I tell him. "But I think Jerem dislikes me, so yeah, you again."

He punches me in the side and I stumble even though he was playful about it. They just don't know how strong they are.

"Guess who's coming for tea?" Silas' voice is ringing over our comms. "Somebody here surely has very determined admirers."

"Mereel," I call over our shared channel, "would you mind keeping your charm down for once in your life?"

"Sorry, _vod'ika_," he replies. "I just don't have that in me."

I roll my shoulders and try to feel my plates from inside. This will be the last we see of them. We are banging out. I check for everybody's position and am proud of myself. I manage without feeling sick in the stomach.

"Get into the ship, Qail," I order. "You're the weakest link, having to move Darman and Kad. We'll cover you. Just bang out!"

"What's Mereel saying about that?" She sounds strained.

"I don't care what he says," I reply. "As long as he's also moving his sorry _shebs_."

"And who made you commander of this operation?" Mereel's voice is still full of good humour. It's probably nothing he hasn't seen before and by far not the worst danger he has been in.

"I did?" It's not the time to discuss this. I wished he'd just flat out countermand me or get on with the retreat. Because I am not used to this and my adrenaline is probably making the decisions instead of my brain.

"_Udesii, vod'ika_. Nothing to worry about. Yet." I can hear his grin. "I'll let you know when it's getting really hairy."

"Thank you, Mer'ika." I suppress the urge to find him and slap him against a wall. It wouldn't work anyway. Instead I get myself into a good position to shoot at incoming people behind my ship while I try to keep an eye on the dots that are Qail, Darman with Kad and Mereel. I don't worry about Mereel. If he goes down, we're all dead.

The first figures show up in angry red on my HUD. Too far away to shoot at yet. It seems that we are surrounded, as well. When the small group exits the house and starts to hurry towards the waiting freighter, the red dots swarm angrily and we open fire.

It's not a long stretch from the door to the ramp. But they have to land only one hit to slow the group down. I deck their positions with blasterfire but it doesn't keep them. They are armoured. They can withstand.

But it doesn't matter. My blaster greets them with its very own staccato. It might not be all that useful, but it beats just watching. And you never know. With the clones and Mij at my side, humming to himself on the shared comm, I can make a difference. Make them stumble or duck. Keep them from getting a clear shot.

Their blasters spout blue stun bolts, so they are on a capture mission. Poor sods.

"Aim for the spot just under their helmet," Mij's voice suddenly rises over his tuneless hum. "Or belly shots just under the diamond. Painful and good for your peace of mind. But it does take some time for the _shabuir_ to go down."

He's a doctor. He's patched me up and saved Darman's life. But right now he's scaring me, his voice sharp as ice and as cold. A man with a grudge. Qail and I know why we don't want to leave any traces in the DNA. We know about revenge.

Finally the ramp of the ship begins to rise. The blasters turn to red but bounce off the hull harmlessly. The engines give a high-pitched whine and the ship takes off, disregarding any damage to the ground.

"Go, go, go." My legs start moving from their own volition, there is a distinctly commanding tone to the voice that rings over the comm in triplicate. I see two of the commandos appear as well as the golden armour of Mij. We make out way to our own ships, spouting blaster bolts all the way. I shoot until the ramp blocks my line of fire.

"Hold on tight." Fi's voice is a sea of calm.

Unlike the ship that bucks and jumps straight into the air. I try to get a hold of something but it is to late. So I resign myself to getting bounced around until we hit hyperspace. It's not the most dignified way to leave Mandalore, but an improvement to my arrival. Maybe one day I'll get the hang of coming and going decently.


	48. Chapter 43

I have no idea where Rinn even is. But that is where we are going. For now.

In the end it turns out to be a small, unimportant planet close to Hutt space and a safehouse has been set up there, ready to take us in. It will take some time, though because Fi has to take a circumspect route to shake pursuers. I don't think we killed many of the attackers. I know I didn't kill any, but I'm not so sure about Mij. He's terribly precise.

So Rinn it is.

Kom'rk won't be there. Kal won't be there. Walon won't be there. I feel scattered.

We touch down in a small spaceport. From there we take a speeder that has somehow been procured without leaving a trace and make our way to a small house in a suburb like any I have ever seen. It's completely unremarkable, from the standardised frontyard of grass and white fence to the red roof and off-white walls. There's a double port for speeders, a backyard with a swing and a sandpit. Two trees with dark green leaves spread shadow across the lawn.

It's a far cry from Kyrimorut and I don't feel safe.

But the setup is on purpose. Who would be looking for wanted criminals in a suburb like this? I feel, I mirror Fi's wide-eyed astonishment. I surely didn't expect to live in a place like this ever.

"So this is how people live," he says.

I can only nod. "If you're well off. If you can afford it."

"Could you have?" We walk through the completely furnished house, two storeys of middle class luxury.

"I guess." There's an empty room on the ground floor. It has a beautiful view of the garden. "I could probably have afforded even more. I never thought to find out."

"Why not?" Fi opens a window and scented air floods the room. Something is in bloom, it's thick scent attracts bees that fill the air with a peaceful hum.

"I didn't feel like settling. I wanted to be moving." I inhale deeply. "I was on the run."

"And now you're not?" He watches me closely as if trying to find more answers than my words can offer.

"Not anymore." I shake my head. "I have caught up with me, but now that's alright."

"It's what he does, isn't it?" Fi stares into the garden.

"Who?"

"Skirata."

I think it over for a while. "Probably." Looking at the clan as a big self-help group is an interesting concept. "He certainly gives you a place to run to anyway."

Not that this is a place I wanted to run to. It's beautiful, it's quiet. It is definitely not home. I walk through the rooms and run my fingers along the walls and furniture. This might have been me. I try to imagine myself with a husband and children, but only Kom'rk's face comes up. I'm probably fooling myself. I would not have ended up in a place like this if Kal hadn't contacted me. I would have ended up in an early grave.

We go shopping. Like normal people we walk into a shop and stack food into a cart, some of everything. And them some on top of that. Also soft foods because we don't know if Darman can eat. And there's nothing wrong with flans.

"Can you cook?" Fi asks.

I shrug. "Possibly." I never did much apart from pancakes. I spent my time in the lab and didn't think about who spent time in the kitchen. "Can you?"

"Possibly." He grins excitedly and puts a cookbook into the cart.

We spend the rest of the day trying to unpack and feel at home. It doesn't work and we have an ever-growing list of customisations the house needs. And then we turn the kitchen into an experimental ground. We should have thought about buying cleaning tools.


	49. Chapter 44

The morning is spent in the building centre. I want a double wall in my closet to keep my armour. Fi wants one too. This time we remember the cleaning tools. Working with wood is very messy compared to tissue cultures. It is also much louder and physically exhausting. I am glad I did not decide to become a carpenter.

Fi is grinning over his whole face. He's all over the closets with measuring tape and markers. I leave him to it and clean up the mess we left in the kitchen. Is this normal life? It feels somewhat incomplete. I chose a recipe from the easy section and set out to make something that looks like a pie. I don't burn it. Fi eats half of it, so it wasn't all bad. I miss everybody as I clean again. I will also have to cook again. I decide that normal life sucks.

Then a big van with the lettering of a medical supplier stops before the house. Fi is down the stairs in a heartbeat and we look at each other uncertain. Then the doorbell rings. We open to find a middle aged man with a clipboard looking at us

"Mr and Mrs Smith?" He asks us expectantly and we fall into place.

"Yes, that's us." I smile and turn to Fi. "You should have told me. Now nothing is prepared." My tone is slightly admonishing but indulgent. I don't know where I picked that up.

"I wanted it to be a surprise." He looks appropriately contrite. "I didn't think it'd arrive so fast."

"Well, where do you want it?" The delivery man is not impressed.

I point him to the empty room at the back of the house. "Can you make sure the bed oversees the garden?"

"As you wish, ma'am." He's all business and beckons to his colleagues. "Whatever you want all this stuff for."

"My - brother," Fi hesitates a second before saying that, "is very ill. But my little angel here," he pulls me close, "said she'd help me with taking care of him. Until, if, when..." He lets the sentence trail off.

I lean against him convincingly. He's not much less bulky than Kom'rk. His hand is warm against my hip as we watch the men unload the van and carry bulky packages and boxes into Darman's room. When they have finished it's already getting dark. I get the broom again. Then I decide to get some flowers instead. There is a garden after all. What use is it otherwise?

I have just realised that there is no vase in the house, when another speeder pulls up in the driveway. The lights do not go on which worries me. Letting the knife drop from its forearm holster, I peer out of the window. The figures moving in the dark look familiar. They also look like a small family with Kad riding on Qail's hip and Mereel keeping Darman upright. I let them in quickly.

We're gathered around the kitchen table apart from Kad who's sitting on it.

"Sorry," Mereel says. "We know it's not perfect."

I stare into the air before Kad. He amuses himself with a set of plastic boxes. His little fingers try to stack them and place them in each other. But somehow it's not working the way he expects. It's interesting to watch.

"We can't move into the new place yet," Qail sighs. "So it's not as if you'd miss any of the practical work. You can do theoretical work, still. It's all we'll be doing for now.""

"And if it would help, Kom'rk could-"

I shake my head. "He's more useful where he is, isn't he?" Force, I miss him. I am not sure how I'd feel cooped up with him in a place like this, but we'd make it work. Somehow. In my selfish heart I wish he was here instead of Fi. But I can't afford to be that person. None of us can. "It's okay."

Of course, it is not. And seeing Kom'rk in the blue light of the comm doesn't help really.


	50. Chapter 45

The days go by and there is really not much to do.

Housekeeping is all kinds of boring. I ever had enough of a household to notice, but now I get the full brunt of it. There is always something to clean, something to cook, something to buy. I do some theoretical genome tampering to distract myself.

Fi is taking care of Darman. He is doing it with such care and devotion I don't dare interrupt and do chores instead. It is good for Darman and it is certainly doing something for Fi as well. I don't ask questions, to each their own salvation.

And Darman improves. He sits up for meals and in the garden. His eyes follow Kad around the grass. Sometimes he looks as if he is about to say something, but then his face scrunches up and she closes his mouth again.

Mij drops by with drugs and encouraging words. We walk Darman around the garden and the neighbours stop by the fence for a short talk. It's weird how they sympathize in the recovery of a man they don't even know. They call us good people, Fi and me, because we take such care of him. Family matters. My fingers twine with Fi's when we tell them how things are not easy. They really are not. Fi is not Kom'rk.

"I like being your husband," he says anyway.

"Well, don't get used to it."

He shakes his head thoughtfully. "That's not what I meant." He takes his time to find the words he wants. "I liked living," he makes an encompassing gesture, "like this, like, being normal. And taking care of Dar." Something else is on his mind and he puts careful words around it. "I am not too old to study, am I?"

I can think of a lot of reasons he can't study, but I am sure Kal will make them all go away. And the age? No, it won't be a problem. Not much longer. Not anymore. "I don't think so, no."

Fi looks into his cup. "And three years will only be three years. Or six." It's probably a difficult concept. "Or soon enough."

"Just a few weeks," I promise. "Maybe months."

He looks up and smiles. "I think I want to be a nurse. Or a doctor."

"You could do both." There's educations that work that way. I look at the serious face before me. He'd be a great nurse. He'd make a wonderful doctor.

"I need to talk to my brothers about it."

"And maybe Mij," I suggest.

He nods.

I can't tell him how glad I am he is not actually wanting to be my husband. There are no kind words to say something like that. I don't want to hurt him. He looks like he is mending, him and Darman both. I wished I could be more patient about it. But I just want to go home, even though there isn't really a home to go to.


	51. Chapter 46

Darman improves and walks about on his own. He sits in the garden and plays with his son. It is heartbreaking to watch. He drops the toys more than Kad. But Kad shows the patience of an adult and that scares me more than anything. Children shouldn't be the older one in a relationship like that.

"It's because he is Force-sensitive," Bardan tries to put me at ease. "He understands more than other children his age."

It still unsettles me. Bardan teaches Kad to control his powers. Darman sits at the table with them and watches. Bardan explains everything. I remember that Darman hates Jedi. How he fell in love with one is beyond me, but that was before, Bardan says. It is also the reason Darman is fine with him teaching Kad. Bardan is also from a time before and now he's more a Mandalorian than a Jedi.

I don't think there is anybody left who is a Jedi first. They are all wiped out. It is strange to think about it. I grew up with them as the pillars of peace and justice. Then they vanished while I wasn't looking and I don't even miss them. I am not sure, I noticed.

Bardan says I am excused for that because I had my mind elsewhere. He looks at me with those mottled green eyes. I still wonder what he sees. But he doesn't tell me and I don't ask. And then he is away again and Darman talks in simple sentences and only to Kad.

Kal calls regularly like clockwork. He must hurt, but I am not sure calling hurts any less. "Let me talk to Dar," he says.

He always does that. We don't know what he tells Darman. We don't know if Darman listens. But we leave them alone because it is none of our business. Once I returned to find that the comm turned off. I just hope they overcome their differences. _Ba'vodu_ looks drawn still when we talk about Darman. There are things unforgiven between them.

"If you want to talk, you let me know, okay?" Darman and Kad are in the garden.

"_Lek_," Darman replies.

I am sorry I don't know him and can't help him. I am sorry Fi is called Fi and still not the man Darman expects. "If you and Kad need anything, let me know, too, right?"

His eyes wander off, following invisible patterns in the air. But he does understand and he does talk and he does shuffle through the house on his own like an old man. When I straighten up, his hand catches mine. "Tera?"

"Yes?" I smile down at him.

He opens his mouth and I can see he is thinking furiously. In the end he just nods and lets go of my hand. I have no idea if he thinks he said something or just accepted he wouldn't.

It's not that he doesn't get better. But the transformation is erratic. I take samples on a regular basis but the results of the testing for the markers is incoherent. Sometimes I am shown a complete transformation with all cells marked. Sometimes only a part of the cells has the markers and the percentage varies. I don't know what to do.

I send the results to Qail and Mereel who pore over them somewhere in the galaxy with better equipment. I wish nothing more than to be with them. Okay, the one thing I want more is to be with Kom'rk. But I will have more time for that if I spent some with Qail and Mereel first.

"You worry too much, _cyar'ika_," he tells me from light-years away. His blue-tinted face gives me pangs of longing I didn't know were possible. They say 'it's only pain' but I am not sure they meant it like this.


	52. Chapter 47

"It's the markers," Qail says. Like Kom'rk she is light-years away and her face shimmers in blue light. "They are unreliable."

"How?"

"They seem to self-destruct or switch off at random. We must have overlooked something in the terminator oxidisation." She takes a deep breath. "The tDNA doesn't get to do its work completely. It keeps finding unmarked cells. So it starts over."

It wasn't that Darman didn't get better, he did. And then he got worse again, because a thing I created defective runs rampant inside of him. I feel like throwing up. "Oh fucking Force," I get out. "How-"

"Don't worry too much," Qail looks concerned. "Mereel and I are at it already. We'll have that sorted out by the time you come here. Dar will be fine."

I still do not feel much better. It was a mistake I made. Just a slight oversight. A teeny tiny something and it almost killed Darman. It certainly keeps him half a vegetable. My fault. My responsibility. And there is nothing I can do to amend it.

"You'll be fine," I tell him. "it's nothing permanent. We'll fix you right up."

Darman sits in his room, watching the rain pour down over the head of his son. Kad seems happy enough with the building blocks scattered all around the two of them. I am still not very good with the toddler. I can understand that he prefers to be handled by people who appear to know what they are doing.

"A few years practice and you'll look like a natural," Fi assures me. He is spending his time researching universities.

"What did Jerem and Silas say?"

"Silas wants to study law," he replies. "And Jerem says he'll do whatever."

Of course, that is not good enough. Nobody under Kal's wing will get away with a job he doesn't love. "Deep space mining is not an option?"

Fi shakes his head. "Too far away from us."

There's always that. You can't tear apart a squad. They will always want to stay together. Even Niner who carries the guilt of the galaxy on his shoulders can't let go of Atin, the other Fi, and Darman. I only just begin to understand how close commandos really are. And the better I understand, the worse I feel for keeping two of them here, far away from their family.

"Eh, same same," Fi says. "You're apart from your own three as well."

I wonder how he gets up to three. There's Kom'rk, naturally. And then there is Kal; my two Ks. maybe I can count Walon as number three. Mereel doesn't really feel as if he qualifies, big brother he acts towards me. Qail is my best friend, but not family in a way I can define. She belongs more to Mij than to me, too.

The social net I find myself in is tangled and full of knots and unexpected loops. I give up trying to sort it out even for myself. Four may be a natural number to commandos. That doesn't mean it is for me as well.


	53. Chapter 48

Finally!

I was thinking I'd go crazy here. I was starting to get to know people and feel guilty about the made-up life I presented to nice and decent people who didn't actually deserve to be lied to. But they are all very understanding. About Darman, who is officially Daryl, about my husband who is official Finney and only waiting to be called to his next job. I can pass my anxiety as worry I have to leave again soon.

"It must be hard," Edith, a mother of two and right-hand neighbour says. "Never to know how long you can stay, always being ready to leave. I do not envy you."

I shrug and smile. "I have Fi."

"You must love him very much."

I think of a man with almost Fi's face and nod. "You have no idea."

It was easy to play happy couple. We only need to imply and the minds of everybody fill in the details. I lean against Fi, he puts his arm around me, we make sure to stand close and look at each other a lot with smiles on our faces. I do not know who he is thinking about when he smiles like that.

A transport has arrived. It's lettering reads Tavers&Tavers but it means nothing to me. I had expected Ny to turn up or maybe one of the other clones. Instead a group of humans and what I think is a Nikto start clearing out Darman's room.

We will leave everything behind that was here already and then some. I don't see why I should lug buckets and brooms across the galaxy. From what I heard not even all the things we brought from Kyrimorut are needed. The beautiful table has gone into storage with many other things. I don't get it. There is indeed no lack of money, but the idea to waste it like that doesn't sit well with me. Also I really liked that table.

When all has been packed up, we're left behind with only a suitcase and an address at a Centares spaceport. Edith is sorry to see us go. But I tell her that in my life my family will always come first and that I will go where it goes. It is not even a lie. And I can't say I am sorry to leave normalcy behind. It holds nothing I hold dear.


	54. Chapter 49

I haven't see Kom'rk in too long and I cannot be removed from his side with pliers for the best part of an hour. The trees have multicoloured leaves and the air is so full of birdsong that it almost hurts my ears. The planet is called Krant and I am supposed to not get attached to it.

"Again?" I rest my forehead against his neck. Complain as he might, Kom'rk has no problem lugging me around for a while.

"Trust me," he says. There is a lot he does not say and I feel that towering behind him. But I am getting used to those shadowy mountains of needn't-know.

"Well, I'll just stay attached to you then." My teeth graze his neck along the carotid. Then I nibble on his ear.

"You do like to live dangerously," he growls and his grip on me tightens.

"Hmmhm. I have seen the other side and I don't like it." I rest my cheek on his shoulder. "You were not there."

"Would you prefer it if I was?" He is serious and breaking my heart. How could I even consider pulling him from his closely knit family. Not to mention it is also _my_ family.

"No." I try to squeeze a little closer. "What would I even do?"

"What you did before," Kom'rk suggest.

I think back and see a lot of meaningless work and an inclination towards suicide. Strangely enough the prospect to get killed by somebody who is not me, is a lot more appealing. "Still no. Life began to look up after I met you."

"You tried to kill me."

"Can you blame me?"

"No." He puts me down gently but determined. "But you would have a much better chance now."

"Just wait until I get my hands on you," I promise. We both know I still don't stand the slightest chance. But that doesn't matter because we both know it's not going to be _killing_ him when I get my hands on him.

But that will have to wait. I don't feel bad much for stealing time with him before anybody else. But Qail and Mereel are waiting. Kal is fussing over Darman when I enter the house. It looks nothing like Kyrimorut. It is not half underground. It is not round. There are no connected complexes stretching out and ready to take in many men. It doesn't feel like home. It feels preliminary.

"You'll learn to like it, at least for a while." Qail shows me the solution she came up with Mereel. I stare at it in envy. It is perfect.

"Have you done the test runs?"

"Yes, we're ready." She smiles. "We were only waiting for the patient to arrive."

I feel useless; like an appendix. But I follow them anyway because I want to be there when my mistake gets erased. That I can do at least. Fi takes the first watch with Mij following that. Medics are more necessary now than bioengineers.

Walon is surrounded by four. Three are clones and then there is Mird. The clones are new and Walon acknowledges my return with a passing nod. He is busy. Mird is rubbing his fur against my legs, probably marking his territory. I rub that spot between his eyes and he rumbles in slobbering happiness, turning into a boneless heap.

Outside the sun is setting in a diffuse light, making the leaves glow eerily. I hug myself and wonder what my problem is. I curl up to sleep against Kom'rk who probably doesn't need me either, but he wants me.


	55. Chapter 50

Three clones occupy the training grounds when I want to do my morning exercise. It feels good to hold my weapons again in the open. I wonder if the beskad has always been this heavy. If I ever go under cover in normalcy again, I will have to find a way to work out and keep my muscles. It's not as if I have many of them.

The men are newcomers, their military stance is still deeply ingrained and they stand straight as if under inspection. "Hi." I offer s small wave. "I'm Tera."

They scrutinise me. It feels strangely familiar. As if on command they introduce themselves.

"Boss."

"Fixer."

"Scorch."

That seems to be all they have to say. I set up shop in a corner and warm up. I can feel their eyes on me when I get out the beskad. "You might want to give me a wide berth," I shrug apologetically. "It has been a while since I could last practise with that."

"It's bigger than you," Scorch says.

I shrug again. I can't even boast that I can wield it well nevertheless. I can't. I just go on.

"You really want to fight with that?" Scorch said after they had watcher me for a while.

"No." I say and carefully lower the blade. "I have killed with it, yes." At that they seem to do a reassessment. "But it is not the weapon I would choose for a fight. It's too heavy." I bring up the tip of the beskad again. "But it'll put some muscles on me."

Plus it gives me a perfect reason to spend time with Walon. I won't tell them that. I don't tell anybody that, not even my new _ba'vodu_. I guess he knows anyway. Sometimes I suspect he has similar motives.

"You can't handle it, but you killed with it," Scorch does not sound convinced.

I wonder if I should break the form I am trying to get through for answering. I decide that though I don't want to, it's the polite thing. And it allows me to lower the short sword which seems to be made of gravity instead of metal. Have I really been away for so long?

"I made them underestimate me." I smile and try to look harmless. "You got to work with your strengths."

Scorch chuckles and holds out his hand. I give him the beskad. "Harmless _and_ stupid," he comments. He does not take an experimental swing with it as I expected, though. Instead he scrutinises the sword itself. "Pretty classy," he judges finally.

"You have experience with beskade?" I take the weapon back.

He glances at his brothers and something changes in the air between them. "We're not actually trained to use them," he says, "but yeah, we have some personal experience with it." Dark shadows hang over those words. Something clicks into place.

"You're Walon's boys!" They wince. Maybe I should not have called them boys. "Sorry." I try to raise my hands in apology but fail due to the basked I'm still holding. "The last I heard he was extracting one of his squads. Should have made the connection earlier. I've been kinda out of it."

Somehow that doesn't help any either. So I shrug again and concentrate on not losing control over the blade. I remember them around Walon and try not to become possessive. My _ba'vodu_, back off! It is easier when I concentrate on the exercise. And unlike me they might not have somebody else.

Well, there's always Kal. He'd do about anything for a clone. Hell, he was still obsessing about having to have Rede killed. He'd adopt them without a second though. The point of the beskad almost hits the ground. I stare at it for a long time.

They have Kal.  
They have Walon.

When I look up I can see them returning to the house, leaving me alone in the training area.

I have Kal.  
I have Walon.  
I might as well be them.


	56. Chapter 51

_Vode an_. That is what I keep telling myself. _Vode an_. And it could not be more true especially with the three newcomers. But then why does it make me feel so jumpy? Everything feels out of tune. The light is not clear, the leaves are a riot of colour and the birdsong matches them painfully.

Darman is struck down by a fever. Again. But it should be the last time. Everybody fusses. You have not seen somebody fussing over another person until you have seen commando brothers with one of their own sick.

Niner looks torn. He's running liaison to one of the contractors that helped move and he seems to worry. "They're good people," he says. "I don't like to think I put them in danger."

I can understand about that. But I don't think our neighbours from Rinn are in any danger. Okay, I admit I didn't even think about that at all. Edith and her two children. What if the Empire finds out we were there? To which length will they go for information?

Everybody we touch is in danger. Maybe it explains why it is so easy to join us. You don't get sucked into the slipstream because we're so appealing but see your one chance to avoid future pain. It doesn't look pretty from this point of view. I refuse to see myself like that. But it is difficult to unsee and Niner is definitely suffering.

Still he stays with Darman and Fi and Atin, but you can see that his worries are split.

"We can't save everybody," I tell him and pray that we can at least save Darman.

"But we try." He certainly learnt that lesson well from Kal. I wonder if _ba'vodu_ knows.

"You will never amount to anything like that," my other _ba'vodu_ says when he sees me manhandling the beskad. "What have you been doing on Rinn?"

"Nothing." I try get back to my old form but it is not that easy.

"And how did that work for you?" He takes up position in front of me.

I scoff. "Not at all." And worse than that. I am back to using the training blades as Walon sees no use in denting the real weapons needlessly because I forgot how to hold one. "Did you teach Delta squad how to use a beskad?"

He freezes in mid-motion which is a sight. "What did they tell you?"

"Nothing." I don't dare lower my blade because sometimes he is mean like that and scolds when I give up my defence. "Only that they had some experience with it."

He relaxes a little, letting his own defence slip. I wonder if I should try to take advantage of that, but his mind clearly is somewhere else. Maybe he is back on Kamino. I have heard stories.

"It's okay," I say. "You trained them, just like me."

"No." The negation is complete. "I did not. I trained them different, harder, more complete. I took them apart and pushed them beyond any of their limits." He takes a deep breath. "I destroyed them. And when they had put themselves together, I destroyed them again."

I had heard stories. I had thought them mostly that: stories. "Why would you do that?"

"So they are still alive today," his voice is hard and sharp like a beskad. "Unlike 75% of the originally trained commandos."

I look up at him in silence. He is serious. He has done things to these men I cannot even imagine; men like Kom'rk who is full of lines even without that. I try to imagine Kal inflicting pain on his commandos just so they know what it is like; just so they know and move on already. It does not work.

But Vau has done it. In ways I cannot even imagine, but also with a beskad the like I am holding now. Likely with the one he is holding now. The world comes to a standstill as my eyes wander down the length of the blade. I want to take a step backwards, but I am frozen, frozen not only in place, but also in my head.

_Why_? It is the dominant word inside my head. Why? And then how. How could he do something like that? I don't know much about growing clones, but I know they started training young. How do you do things like that to children? Children that grow up around you? I think of the scar on Atin's face. I know the story behind that. I did not think about it. I do not want to think about it now.

But the truth is staring at me. Looking at me patiently from golden eyes and waiting to which conclusion I might come. At least now I know why everybody thinks Vau is so hard. He is. Pain. Torture. Dirty stuff. He knew how to break Rede. He had experience.

I can't help staring back at him. There is no change in the man. I see no visible sign of the cold brutality he harbours. He does not look like a killermachine. He still looks like – Walon Vau.

"And they live?" I finally ask.

His lips compress into a line almost invisible. "Most of them."

"I-," the tip of the beskad lowers itself to the floor. "I think I need time to think." I feel bad about it because he's still Walon and, and, and - my other ba'vodu.

"Take all the time you need," he replies.

I stare at him, feeling wobbly because something is missing.

"_Ad'ika_."

I needed to hear that. I nod. I feel the confusion getting the better of me and curl my lips inwards, keeping them clamped shut with my teeth. I don't know how to take leave in a way that speaks the right colours. In the end I rest my right palm against his chest for a moment before I run.


	57. Walon Vau: Offspring

_Your squad,_ he kept telling himself. _Your men, your responsibility. _

It didn't matter that he had left the military as soon as his contract had run out and never returned. He was not like Kal who missed the lads and needed to be close to them, needed to save them still. Vau had done all the saving he could in the eight years on Kamino. The rest was up to the men themselves.

They made their own decisions. They did not need him. He had made sure of that. The fear in their eyes was something he remembered well. It would keep them alive. It had. They had the edge that let them survive when other squads broke apart. It had been some time since he last had a look at the numbers. The Nulls were careful with the access to the Imperial systems they had now. It was not for playing around.

But the last numbers had been enough. 75% of all commandos, all _original_ commandos, wiped out. Of those not trained by Mandalorians a mere 2% remained. The left about a third of the squads trained by Mandalorians per trainer in action. Of his men, and Vau noted that with deep satisfaction, eighty were still alive. It didn't matter what Kal thought. He was wrong. His men survived because he had trained them the way he had.

He had never expected any of them to desert, though. It was not what he had trained them to be. But it was their decision and that made it his responsibility. He could fathom some reasons why Delta had decided the way they had, the most prominent of them likely located on Kashyyyk.

But that had been for the future and Vau didn't think about telling them not to leave again. He had done the same. There was hope, however frail and illogical, that the squad would do better finding their missing comrade than he had.

So when the request came, naturally, he armoured up. His squad. His job. They had not been given much to work with. A time, a place and the rough draft of a mission that was likely to go all pear-shaped. And when they had arrived in the mentioned place at the mentioned place, they had made quite certain that the mission went pear-shaped. His men were excellent at what they did. They left no traces.

There had been no fear in their eyes then. They had peeled of the dark grey armour, jettisoning their last ties to the military that had bred them. Then they had looked at the kit Vau had prepared. He knew they would feel out of place out of armour. But that was one thing he could do.

"Nice kit, sarge." Scorch rapped his knuckles against the plates. "Not quite as stylish as our old kit, though."

"Redecorate any time you feel like it." Vau tossed an assortment of weapons. "You don't need a beskar smith for that."

"So we're not going to Mandalore," Boss said.

"No. The location is compromised." Vau gave them a once over. "I didn't think you'd stick around very long, anyway."

There was no reply to that as the three men put on their new armour. Their beskar'gam was in similar, grey on grey with highlights of orange, green and yellow. It was a standard pattern, but Vau guessed they would get their own markings back if they wanted to.

For now that didn't seem to matter. Kal had been overjoyed to see them again and made no secret of it. It was frightening how easily the squad merged into the growing clan that Skirata was building. It was frightening too see how willingly Delta adapted. But then the war was over for them and their old habits didn't serve their purpose any longer. They needed a new purpose and that was what Kal offered.

Still there was something they needed to do first. They had sat poring over maps of Kashyyyk when Tera returned. Walon had not given it a second thought. He had not given it a thought until Tera mentioned talking to them about the time on Kamino.

What had they told her? He looked down at Tera's face, wondering what he expected. They were here now, he had made sure of that. And they would stay, at least for a while until they went off on the inevitable search for Sev. What would they tell her in the meantime? What would he tell her?

_The truth_, he told himself. _Stick to that._

The cold and ugly truth if necessary, but the truth nevertheless. Lies would not save her. Lies would not save Delta or make the past undone. Lies could not even appease his own mind.

He saw nothing of the men he trained in Tera's eyes when he looked down at her. She was not afraid, not scared of him the least. There were thin white lines on her skin as well, but they were not his doing. She was whole in a fragile way that any commando could shatter within hours.

"It's okay." She said into the silence. Filling the space his words had been expected to occupy. "You trained them, just like me."

Train her like them? The idea was ridiculous. He had offered that, but by now he knew he would have severe difficulties making good on that promise.

"No." There was nothing for it. She would find out anyway. She might as well hear it from him. He had not trained them the way he was training her. The two things had nothing in common. And he would tell her the truth. So he did. Even if it hurt to see something break in those dark eyes as she looked up at him, trying to comprehend the shape of the world changing around her.

What had she been thinking? It was a little too late to think about that now. And she had known about Rede, she had even _asked_ him. And still she was grappling with the truth now. There was little Walon could do to help her. Rattling down the stats was one thing. Those were not a lie and they did fill him with pride. His men did well. His men survived. His men were still out there doing their job. Even if admittedly and undeniably some of them were here now. Life was not pretty and war even less so. There was only so much you could do.

Of course she had never actually _seen_ that side of him. He was not a nice man. He had never pretended he was. He would not start now. He would give her time, time and the truth. He could see her need for that in the way she stood. At least she had not retreated at the realisation of what his past had been. Small favours. She was doing a good job keeping herself together, deeply shaken as she was. But she would give in to her need to run. Walon could only let her go.

There were no guarantees in life. The possibility to fuck up was ever-present. But no matter how she decided, she would still be his _ba'ad_, his responsibility. It was something he cold hold on to. It was something he could let her know before she left.

"_Ad'ika_."

She relaxed visibly when he said it. For a split moment her hand rested against his heart and then she was gone. Walon lowered the blade, considering to continue the exercise on his own, just for the sheer exertion of it. He decided against it. Tiring his body would not help, not this time.

It was one of the hardest things, sheathing the beskad and admitting there was nothing he could do. Tera had to work this out for herself. She was a good kid, she'd come out on top. Of course that was no guarantee she'd be back. After all she still was a _good_ kid.

You didn't get to be good around these parts. Doing the right thing got you killed, it was as simple as that. You did what _needed_ doing, needed doing to keep yourself alive and those you cared for. There was no middle ground. Sooner or later she would realise that. Walon hoped it would be sooner. He hoped it would be soon enough for her to, well, forgive was the wrong word, but accept what he was. He could be nobody else. It was the first time he saw the appeal in that.

The question he could not get the better of was 'what if she doesn't return?'. Maintenance of his kit could not quench it. Spending time with Mird could not silence it. He could simply not obliterate that thought.

What was worse was that he did not know what he would do if she didn't. It was not a scenario his mind accepted. But he'd deserve it. It was that inner voice speaking words from the past. He'd deserve no less. Because he couldn't get her up to form in time. Because he would have let her lie to rot. Because he could not protect her. Because she deserved more, better, a real father, somebody like Kal who showered her with affection.

He'd deserve it. Because he was Walon Vau.


	58. Chapter 52

I run off into the woods but there is no lake to arrive at. Only trees and more trees and birds trumpeting their songs. I stop and stare into the forest. The trunks are forming a densely striped pattern for no reason. Apart from the _buy'ce_ I'm still all armoured up. I look at my hands black as night and foreign in the bulky gloves. In the rioting colours around me, my black form is an intruder.

But it does not stay alone. I can hear steps approaching. That means somebody wants me to know they are coming. I keep staring at my hands, listening intently. Of course it is Kom'rk. He knows me. He knows where I go, even if the geography fails me badly.

"Are you okay, _cyar'ika_?"

"No." I watch him come closer and am so torn. I am glad I don't have to be alone now. I am angry that I am not let alone now. I am not sure I want to be alone with myself now.

"What is it?"

"Vau."

"Does he need a civilised conversation?" Kom'rk keeps his tone light, but I know if I told him yes – well no. He would ask the relevant questions first. And I don't even know what I want.

"No." I shake my head. "I'm just. I didn't think. And now. It's probably me."

"You realise, you're not making much sense?" He rests his hand against my face and I lean into the touch, closing my eyes.

"Yes," I reply softly. "I don't think I can."

"You will." His thumb runs over my lips. "Give it time."

There it is again that elusive monster. My immortal enemy, my unrelenting ally. How can time be the answer to all my problems? "But how much?"

"However much it takes." He is giving me the only thing he doesn't have. It's almost enough to distract me from Vau.

"I will be back."

"I know." He breathes a kiss onto my lips and leaves me to grapple.

There are things you cannot be helped with. Questions you must ask yourself and answer you must give yourself. You cannot let others tell you who you are. Not deep inside where it matters. There are thoughts you have to think on your own.

I want to think. But I might have forgotten how to. Because I have heard all the stories. And now I know they are all true. Because Walon Vau sticks with the truth. At least where I am concerned. I frown. He would not lie to me. Not to make me feel better. Not to make himself look better. So there is that.

But does that help any? Is there redemption or even justification? Understanding? Forgiveness? What do I _want_? Unfortunately, that one is easy. But is that _right_? And who gets to decide on that? I know I want to decided on that but am I allowed to be selfish? Can I make a decision like that selfishly and live with it for the rest of my life?

What kind of person am I?

It's the answer to that that scares me. But I can't allow my fears to rule me. I know what I want. It is not up to me to decide if I deserve it. If I can get it, I will take it. Because I want it and that is good enough.

I want my home.

I want Kom'rk and Kal and fuck everything, yes I do want Walon Vau. It might not be right. It might not be good and I may not be good. But then I have killed people. I have killed people myself with my own hands. So what kind of person am I? And I would do it again. Will do it again because that is what my life is now. And I do not regret it. So what kind of person am I? My kind of person, I decide. I surrounded myself with men of violence. What did I expect to happen?

Happiness.

I have to smile because that actually did happen. I am married to a killer, related to a killer, best friends with a killer. Everybody I know has blood on their hands. I have blood on my hands. I am not a good person anymore. So there is that. And that is enough.

I return late and Walon is not in any of the common rooms. I knock at his door because I don't think he's asleep. He is not.

He gets up as I slink into the room. "You look worse than I feel."

I offer a smile and don't stop walking until my forehead touches his chest. "You are not a good man."

"No." He offers a tentative hold on my shoulders.

"But you are my _ba'vodu_." I shake my head a little, scratching my skin on the cloth of his shirt.

"Yes."

I do not get a say in that because that is how it works. I don't get to make his decisions. I cannot undo his decisions. And nobody can undo mine. "_Jate_."


	59. Chapter 53

Darman woke up and asked for his son and something to drink. In one, coherent sentence. The relief is palpable. I know I feel light-years better. Now all that remains is to wait a few days and see if the tDNA will stop for good this time or if the markers act up again. We're all pretty positive that we got it right this time, but we are careful.

As Omega squeezes into the room of Darman with Kal and their assorted girls, I try feel homely at the new table. It is ugly. Okay, I am prejudiced. The wood is dark and it is more than one board and really, why can't I have the old table back?

"And what exactly is the reason for this unrivalled amount of grumpiness on this fine morning?" Walon slip into a chair across the table. The double assault of shig and Mird on my nose does little to improve my mood.

"Would 'this table' be a sufficient reply?"

He looks at the dark wood and raises a brow. "Not really."

I sigh. "Then I don't know." I let my fingers run over the smooth wood.

"I would have expected more elation." Walon takes a thoughtful sip of his shig. "You have found the cure after all."

I try to smile. "Just a few kinks to get rid off, yes." It should make me feel better. My husband will live as long as normal men, or at least as long as normal men who are professional mercenaries. The difference might just be philosophical. My brothers will have a normal life span and it will be up to them what they do with it.

"What will I do next, Walon?"

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know." I manage a wry smile. "Fat lot off good I am."

"It'll come to you." There is only conviction in his voice.

"I guess. So," a thought occurs to me, "how long until I can do something sensible in my kit?"

"Depends on how you define sensible."

Sometimes I wished he was more helpful in a concrete way. But then how am I ever to get the answer I really want? I sigh. I manage walking and talking in the armour at the same time now. I also stopped running into walls. That counts as sensible n a way. I have killed people and shot at people and was not killed in return. That should count as sensible as well. Which begs the question if I even want to do the mercenary stuff associated with the kit.

Instead of bouncing my head off the ugly tabletop I take another sip off my tea. "I don't know what I want."

"And how can I help you with that?" He is not being sarcastic.

And I wish I had an answer for him. But instead of an epiphany, three men come towards us. They keep standing at a respectful distance which I find inexplicable until I see how they look at Walon. Maybe it had not been the word 'boys' that had upset them. They are fully armoured, buckets clipped to their belts. They are definitely not like Kal's boys.

I get up and take my cup. "I'll be in the lab. And if I find the answer," I shrug still looking at Walon, "I'll let you know."

He nods.

"I thought you had the answer?" Boss says.

"That would be the answer to the rapid ageing," I reply. "Unfortunately, that is not the only answer I am looking for. But yeah, we have that. Something to look forward to."

They look uncomfortable. "We will find Sev first." He gets affirmative nods from Fixer and Scorch.

"And if you don't find him?" I want to know.

They shrug. "It won't bring him back, will it?" Fixer asks.

I shake my head. "It would give you more time to search." It's a feeble argument of no use and we all know it.

"It will also give us more time to miss him." Scorch shakes his head. "How does that even help anything?" He looks me in the eye. "Does time heal all wounds?"

I think about it. "No," I say. "It does not. People do that."

"We will keep it in mind then." With those words from Boss the discussion is ended.

I remove myself to the lab quickly. They are hard men I don't understand. They scare me more than Walon and then again they are afraid of him. It's a crazy world and I feel much safer surrounded by things I know and can control.

Mereel is already in the lab poking cells with the equivalent of a stick. "Good news." He grins. "They do exactly as told."

"And the bad news?" I smile back at him. He seems to be even more full of life now that we are so close. Sometimes I am afraid he'll just burst.

"They die."

I give him my best exasperated teacher face. "What did I say about playing with the future of your family?"

"That I am not supposed to do it?" He is not even pretending to be contrite. "Worth a shot, this one. After all we're talking several days of high fever and possible tissue rejection. What a horrible thought, that the sole braincell of some of my brothers jump ship in the process of curing them?"

"Mereel?"

"Yes, Ter'ika?"

"What have you given your own single braincell for breakfast?" I get used to laughing about the imminent disaster that could be my future. I stop to look over the chart he is working on. "But yeah, worth a try. I guess we'll just have to be very careful and never treat more than two or three."

"Not quite the success we wanted, is it?" He's suddenly sober.

"It will work out for everybody in the end," I reply firmly. "That is all that matters."


	60. Chapter 54

"Are you sure?" I hold on to Kom'rk's face with both hands. But there is nothing in his dark eyes but certainty and determination. Not that I had expected anything else.

"Yes." He kisses me softly which doesn't help. "It can't be Ordo, Kal would-," he doesn't finish the sentence that would not only break ba'vodu's heart but mine and his as well. The possibility of failure has never left us, even with Darman happy and healthy again. He has made his peace with Kal for now. There are no more Jedi around. Jusik and Scout don't count.

Truth be told, they _all_ volunteered. Even the ones away at the moment commed and said they'd be game soon as they set foot on Krant again. It's touching. It's scary. It's difficult to decide who is to go first. We all have favourites and neither wants to play to them. We're stuck.

But the Nulls sorted things out, because that's who they are. Corr and Levet were easy because we have no other trooper or commander at hand. The Centax clones were more difficult because they only do things together. So it is going to be Bevin and Lance because Sal and Riye are still out with Fi and Parja, something I do not quite understand. But then Cov and his squad have also not arrived.

Anyway, since Bevin and Lance trust nobody as much as Niner, he is the first commando to take the real cure. Though we're positive that he'll be fine because Darman certainly is. Maze won't be back without Zey and Kal forbid that with Darman watching. He loves that boy and Dar repays him by staying and smiling. Spar or Sull may or may not be around some day. It will have to wait.

That leaves the Nulls and me unhappy. Ordo is definitely out because even on the off-chance that something happens nobody want to hurt Kal that bad. Mereel will be needed in case something does go wrong against all expectations. Jaing is on a mission with Prudii. A'den and Kom'rk drew straws. And this is where it leaves me, clinging to him because of the off-chance that something might happen to him.

I am going soft. I should learn my lessons from Walon better. But where Kom'rk is concerned I can't. But Kom'rk is like me. He makes his own decisions, nobody else can. And he has made his. And I will live with it. Even if that means clinging to him, nestling my face against his neck, wishing it was already all over.

"You created the cure." His fingers play at the nape of my neck. "I am safe."

I bite him because he is being justifiedly unfair.

Five men are a little more than I had in mind when I said small numbers, but if life was as tidy as lab work, I'd have mastered it years ago. I'd like to have more medics on board but the commandos will have to do. They have field experience with wounded and sick men. It will have to do. Even Darman wants to man the shots for Niner because Niner was there for him when he could not even appreciate it.

I feel uncomfortable handing that man a hypo spray let alone a syringe, but everybody else trusts him and I trust them. And we have time. The saturation will take days. We want to start with a week because that keeps the doses low enough not to cause too many problems. Still we are prepared for anything from headaches to nausea to paralysis. The shelves of the sick room look like a drug dealer's secret stash. Maybe it is.

"Stop fussing." Kom'rk keeps me at arms-length.

I try to stop, I really, really do, but it's just so difficult. He's been taking chemicals for several days now. He's gotten the silencing shot a few hours ago. He looks possibly normal. Possibly a little pale and possibly a little grey-skinned. But that might be just my knowledge of symptoms and worry.

I sit down and put my hands between my knees without taking my eyes off him. "But you will tell me if you're sick or in pain, right?" He's tall, strong and unstoppable. I try to calm down. He is not stupid. He knows what is at stake. He will let me know if anything is amiss. I sit on my hands so I don't do anything stupid with them.

"You should get those nervous energies out of your system and some sleep," he says gently. "You will need all you strength once the tDNA starts working and I run a high fever hallucinating my youth on Kamino."

I want to laugh. But I know I'd cry, so I say nothing and squeeze out a smile. In the end I get up and hug him. "I'll be there. I promise."

"I know." His hand runs through my hair.

When I feel the urge to fuss again, I let go and give him a once over. "At least you won't be conscious enough to realise what a horrible nurse I am."

He shoos me out with a toss of his head.


	61. Chapter 55

I train so much that I worry both my _ba__'__vodu'e_ but can't alleviating my own worries much. It even comes to the point were Walon simply knocks me off my feet and some over the _buy'ce_ just so I have to take a time out. I pout and rub my head.

Kom'rk is still fine. He laughs when he sees me taking the painkillers against headaches instead of him. He's tired, though and doesn't have his usual drive. As far as symptoms go that is getting off easy.

Niner is slightly shaky and definitely grey in the face, Levet prefers to stay in bed, Bevin and Lance are already running fevers. Qail and I agree to lower the doses of the zinc for normal clones in the future. It might take longer, but it is horrible to see them suffer like that. Things will be bad enough once the actual genetic make-over starts.

"If this works out as planned," Qail says, "we'll have two week cycles. We could start saturating the next patients the moment the first batch starts to recover."

"I'd feel happier if there weren't that many disabled men around," I say. "If anybody attacks us, we can hardly move them."

"Nobody will attack us," Mereel says firmly.

I wish I had his conviction. But since I don't I will have to find other ways to deal. That is not so easy. Walon's squad seems to feel uncomfortable around me, so I keep my distance. Unfortunately, they are planning the men's dream of searching for their missing member. Knowing that, I can disturb them even less. They want to give up a full life span for solidarity with a man who might be dead.

"_Jatne'kara_." I have no words to give them. Three identical men, distinguishable only by the markings on their armour; they seem so distant.

That doesn't stop Kal from fussing. I get the feeling nobody fusses as effectively as Mandalorians. Their ship is equipped with the best encryption and camouflage now. It is stocked with food and weapons. A fourth set of armour is packed up, identical to those they wear with crimson markings. I did not shiver when I saw it.

"Well, I had hoped they'd stay a little longer," Walon says probably more to Kal than me. "At least until," he paused looking at me then back to Kal, "you know."

"Until what?" Until the first group of clones had finished the treatment? Until there were tangible results? They had been adamant with their decision to wait until they had found Sev. I don't think seeing the cure worked would change their minds any. I didn't think Walon harboured such hope either. So, until what?

"Oh nothing." He kept glancing at Kal.

So Kal had decided I was on a need-to-know on something. Some things will never change. Still I let my thoughts linger on that. I have too many other unpleasant things to think about. But I come up with nothing I should not know anything about. That's probably exactly the point.

Since I am not allowed to fuss over Kom'rk and Delta has finally left – though I really shouldn't think of them like that – I have an idea what to do. "You got a moment, Walon?"

Of course he does. And he seems to enjoy the distraction as much as I do. I wonder if he thinks about Delta and what it is he is thinking. But his thoughts are his own. If he wants me to know, he'll let me.


	62. Chapter 56

I have made another big mistake and should probably have my title of bioengineer revoked. And this time I miscalculated where it really, really, hurts.

Once we were sure the silencing shot had done it's preparatory work and everything was in place, we gave out the final shots. Well, _I_ didn't, seeing how I don't know how to do injections on things bigger than a cell. So it was Mij and Fi who did the actual shots. Fi's shaping up fine already under Mij's tutelage. I can't wait to see what kind of person will return after he studied.

That was when I happened. Not immediately, because even our highly aggressive piece of engineering needs some time to have an effect that shows. But then it did. Fortunately we had prescribed eight hours of bed rest just in case. After two hours Kom'rk started to feel an effect; after four he was running a high fever and after six he was displaying all side effects we could imagine in full.

On the other side of the spectrum are Bevin and Lance. They hardly noticed when they got their injection. But unlike Kom'rk they started improving. Where he declined, they are now sitting up, talking and feeling unwell. So much for a well-thought-out saturation. It's not that we need to down-regulate the doses for the normal clones, we should up-regulate that for all other groups.

It seems inevitable that they have to be miserable during the process. Either because of the chemicals which are more than the human body can handle or because there are not quite enough chemicals around to cushion the actual rewrite. It's a lose/lose situation. At least the silencing works fine and in a bit we will see if the markers have stayed on their good behaviour. Those will be long days for me.

And if that was not enough, I am indeed a horrible nurse. I get in the way of Fi and Mij. I am not sure how grateful I really am that Kom'rk is too out of it to notice. I'd rather have him berate me for my incompetence than mumbling incoherently and trying to fight invisible enemies. I am not sure they are imaginary, some have Kaminoan names. They spread terror and I am not used to that.

But I can be there. I don't know if that helps him much but it sure does me good.

So there I sit, holding on to his hand. I talk to him even if he doesn't react. Sometimes his eyes snap open but they are empty. If he sees anything it is far away, far back and long gone. But of course he remembers. Time does not soften memories for him. Everything is still fresh in his mind. The days on Kamino, years, the bigger part of his life by far, a sterile world without mercy and only Kal standing between him an obliteration. How does he stand it?

I squeeze his hand. I'm there. I tell him so even if he doesn't hear. I wonder what he hears. I am not allowed to let him pull the blanket all over his head. That reduces him to stricken panic. He almost breaks my hand when I push some hair from his face. But I can't reach him. And it is all my fault.

How many good turns have I given Kom'rk in his life? I'm glad I don't have perfect recall to see the zero in irrefutable facts. It was not enough. I have give him good memories, agreed, but how far can those last laid out against the years of torture on Kamino? Ten years like it's today. How does he handle it?

Admirably, that's how he does it. Now, with his conscious shields lowered and destroyed, his fears run rampant, I can begin to guess what lies under the surface that is my Kom'rk. A darkness that threatens to swallow him and all around him. Unlike my saving night, his devours all.

Wide-eyed I look at Mereel. He only shrugs. He knew all along. He carries the same sharp darkness inside of him. So does Ordo, upright and orderly Ordo.

I think of Walon; I think of Kal, what I know about their childhoods. Is there none with a normal past to them among us? I can only think of Besany.

Then Kom'rk starts thrashing again and I can only concentrate on calming him down again. I'd let him rip off my arm this time if it'd make him well again.


	63. Chapter 57

It did not take my arm for Kom'rk to become better. After two sleepless days and nights his condition improves and turns stable. He is weaker than ever because we couldn't get much water, let alone food, into him. But he sleeps if fitfully. Sometimes I fell asleep sitting at his bed. Kal and Walon admonished me but gently, they understand.

Kal looks less worried now than when Kom'rk's condition started to deteriorate. Qail and Mereel have probably explained it all to him. Looking at the course things take, I agree that it will be better to go hard on the chemical saturation and then have an easier transition process. Thrashing and hallucinating Nulls are a danger even to themselves. And there's the problem of feeding them anything in such a state. Better have them mostly lucid most of the time, even if it hurts.

I can hardly contain myself when Kom'rk recognises the world around him and me again. I help him drink some water. Mij has put all kinds of stuff into it, too. Some of it goes down the wrong side of his throat and mingles with the fever sweat. I wipe it away and tell him how all is fine and how he will be fine and how sorry I am.

"_Kar't__a__yli darasuum_," I whisper. "_Ke'kartayli bic_."

He looks so weak, the hair damp, clinging to the greyish pale skin of his face. Still he manages a smile. "_Kar't__a__yli_."

I can't know if it was the answer to my command or reciprocating my confession. His head slumps backwards with his eyes closed.

But he recovers. He sees and he speaks and more importantly he takes nutrition. For the first time in what feels like a long row of uncounted days, I get up to leave him to rest on his own. My feet bring me to the karyai which doesn't deserve that name. Kal is sitting at the new table playing with Kad while Darman is talking to Lance and Bevin. They seem to be comparing notes about the curing process.

The two clones seem exhausted, but they are walking around again already, considering the process completed where they are concerned. Everybody looks happy, especially Kal. He held his promise. He gave them back a normal life span. Half his quest is completed.

I can't help but smile as I slump down on the bench next to him. Kad hands me a plastic felinx which I accept without thinking. For a while I watch as my hand makes it walk across the table. Then Kad reclaims it with a bout of babble.

"You should get some sleep," Kal says. "Real sleep."

I nod, leaning against him. "I know." I stare at the dance the felinx is performing with another plastic animal. "Not sure I can make it to my room." It's half a lie, but I feel tired and comfortable where I am.

"You will find the place full of volunteers, if you drop here, _ad'ika_." He takes my hand. "You did very well."

I try to smile, though of course he can't even see that. "Not as well as I should have, _ba'vodu_. Not by a long mile."

"Kom'rk will be fine." He squeezes my hand. "And he will have a normal lie span. Because of you. And the next time things will go better. Nobody is perfect."

I don't tell him that I was nobody for a long while and it was indeed less than perfect. But on the other side there's Kom'rk and Mereel and they sure are perfect.

"I try, _ba'vodu_."

"I know. But now you go to bed."

I look a the three clones sitting at the table, looking at me. "It's worth it though, isn't it?"

"Every bit." He pats my hand again as I get up on wobbly legs. My room seems very far away. But how could I have left Kom'rk's side any sooner? I shake my head. He would be fine. I would be fine. _We_ would be fine. Finally. Give us time.

A hand takes hold of my right elbow. It's Lance. Before I can say anything, Bevin appears on my left; two clones to get one me to my room. They look exhausted but determined, even eager. I don't know for what. Pleasing me? Saying thanks in some way? I smile and let them go ahead.

* * *

.

.

.

_Kar't__a__yli darasuum._ - I love you.

_Ke'kartayli bic_. - Know that.


	64. Chapter 58

The day Kom'rk gets up, Mereel looks like he's going down. He has taken saturation to a whole new level. But if anybody can adapt his own medication it's him. Mij is monitoring him closely with Fi glued to his heels.

Atin and Jerem are on the treatment with Mereel. Their chemicals are on a lower level but they look as bad as him. I am so sorry for them all. Riye and Sal are still away with the other Fi and Parja. I really wonder why they did not arrive yet. The same is true for Cov and his men. I am not sure how moved in the Nulls are, but they never seem to stay long in one place. Except for Ordo. And Mereel, but he is working.

I look into the greying face of Mereel and it hurt. "Mer'ika, your complexion is halfway down to Kaminoan," I say. "What where you thinking?"

"That Jaing can always use another pair of gloves." He smiles but it is a difficult one that doesn't make anything better.

"I'll tell him. If this goes wrong you only have yourself to blame."

"Feels good, doesn't it, _vod'ika_?"

I wish it did. But for that I'd have to believe my own words. And I still have trouble doing that. But since I did little but fuss over Kom'rk, who has his hard-edged smile back by now, these past days, I can't really claim any responsibility for what Mereel did in that time. Not that I could otherwise: He's just like Vau and me and Kom'rk; making his own decisions. He is his own person. You can't protect people from being a person. Trying to do that is trapping them, reducing them to less than they are. All you can is suck it up and endue the pain and guilt.

"Cheer up, _vod'ika_," he says. "I have been teaching Ordo my humour so he can pick up teasing you in case I kill myself."

I can't help laughing. Clones they may be, but they're still so different that one impersonating the other is ridiculous. "Should you manage to get yourself killed with this I promise I will find you and you'll never hear the end of it." I squeeze his shoulder. "You're too reckless for your own good, Mer'ika."

"Always have been, always will be," he agrees. "And believe it or not, this isn't the worst I have been."

I believe him. Looking at his drawn face, the smile still holding on to it's edges desperately somehow and the shimmering eyes, I believe him. I want to kick the galaxy in its soft parts repeatedly for it, too.

At least I can move Kom'rk back to our room. He is to take it easy. Still I make sure he has a thorough shower to remove several days of feverish sweat from his person before I put him into clean briefs and between clean sheets. He looks irresistible with his rumpled hair still damp, clinging to his skull but already starting to curl. His eyes are dark and clear. The stubble of the days lies over his cheeks and chin like a shadow. It is hard and scratchy under my fingers.

He also looks miffed at being worn out by that bit of walking and standing around. He is not used to being weak. "Don't you need to rest, too?" He asks capturing my wayward hand to kiss my palm.

Actually, I made sure I was rested for the move but I don't tell him that as I climb into the bed beside him. He is somewhat peeved about the amount of clothes I wear but I can kiss him into silence. Regardless of what we want, he is still not well again.

I rest my head against his heart. It doesn't race. It pulses with a steady beat that feels almost in sync with mine. I close my eyes and listen to Kom'rk breathe.


	65. Chapter 59

When Kom'rk has fallen asleep I get up again reluctantly. I like feeling his warm body next to mine. He doesn't even have to do anything, just being there is enough. Still I get up and don't trail my fingers along his features that look impossibly soft when he sleeps. But then he is only fourteen.

I check on Mereel who is too weak to smile back but still able to take water and liquid nourishments. The approach in itself is sound. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Jerem and Atin don't look much better. I can't wait until they get their shots tomorrow and things will look up for them.

On my search for Walon I stumble across Niner. He's on the comm with a good-looking guy I have never seen before. He seems flustered. "Why would I do that?"

I can't hear the answer. But Niner seems to become aware of my presence suddenly."Tera, will you come here for a moment."

I shrug and walk to his side, into the comm's frame of transmission.

"Tera, this is Jalen Tavers," he introduces me. "Jalen, this is Tera Nu."

I wonder why my old name irritates me. Do I think of myself as a Skirata? Am I not? A pity I cannot think about that now. At least the name of the man rings a bell. "From Tavers&Tavers?" I ask. "You moved Dar -yl's sick room on Rinn!"

"Pleased to meet you as well, Miss Nu," Tavers replies. Obviously my lack of manners didn't go down well with him.

I apologise.

"Yes," he accepts the apology. "That was my company." Even through the white noise of the comm his voice sounds nice.

I wonder what to do next, but Niner takes the chance to pitch in. "Would you please tell Jalen what I have been doing the last two weeks?"

I frown at him. "Doing? I sure hope you were doing nothing and stayed in bed." I shake my head to gain more time. I need inconspicuous words. "You were too sick to do anything. Hell, I'd have clobbered you over the head if you had tried to get up."

Niner turn to Tavers with an 'I-told-you-so' gesture. "Thanks, Tera," he mumbles.

Tavers does not look all to convinced, though. "So that was not it," he admits. "But something is amiss, Niner. I just know it no matter how much you deny it."

Since I am clearly out of the conversation again, I leave. I can hear Niner ask for a week's reprieve to explain everything. So I am not the only one not getting explanations. I wonder what Kal has planned for Tavers. After all the relocating part is over now.

"So how do you feel on this wonderfully bright and loud afternoon?" Walon asks brandishing his beskad.

I wish I could use the _buy'ce's_ systems to filter at least some of the birdsong out. But those frelling beasts cover all frequencies. Why couldn't Kal chose a quieter planet? "I feel like asking a lot of annoying questions you are not supposed to answer."

"Ask away!"

It turns out that asking questions you don't get answers to is not very satisfactory. It may or may not have an influence on how powerful I swing the blade which may or may not have an effect on my technique. But it does help me sort my thoughts.

When I return from the shower I find Kom'rk at our desk. I ask him what it is that is going on.

"Not yet," he just replies and pulls me down on his lap. I curl up against him and glance at the display. He is looking at kit and rests his chin on my shoulder as he flips through the pages. Some of the stuff makes even me long. EMP proof blasters. Damn, I want them. I don't dare look at the price tags. I concentrate on feeling Kom'rk's arm around my middle instead.

"What happened to the Sienar lab," I ask rubbing my cheek against his. The facilities here are nice but basic, even compared to Kyrimorut. I like the smell of his aftershave.

"I must have misplaced it. Sorry _cyar'ika_." His lips brush against my skin.

"It's alright," I reply. What need would I have for a real lab now anyway? There's nothing left to do. I can't make a name for myself in science circles. I can't make a name for myself in commercial circles. I can't be a name at all. And what could I do with knowledge as ridiculously specific as mine? "_An jate, cyar'ika_."

I press against him and black out everything until I feel somewhat better again. Kom'rk nibbling on my neck might play a part in that.

"_Gedet'ye_," I murmur. I want to turn around and cling to him, but he is faster. As he picks me up and cradles me against his chest, I decide that if he is strong enough to do that, he'll just have to live with what follows. He offers no complaints.

.

.

.

* * *

_An jate, cyar'ika. _- It's okay, sweetheart.

_Gedet'ye. _- Please.


	66. Chapter 60

There was nothing much to do but man the sick rooms and train. And there was definitely something underfoot. As soon as Mereel was upright again he left with Niner, Bevin and Lance who haven't been back since. I get the feeling that Mereel is also in no hurry to return.

"Later," Kal said. "When you are through with this and can be distracted all you want." He smiled as he said it and he means well.

I guess 'this' is handing out the cure to any clone within reach. Surprisingly, those are not as many as expected. Currently the last of ours have the clone flu as it got dubbed. When Mereel had recovered, Ordo was up next with Corr and Silas. That left only Fi from the commandos who wanted to go last so he could work on his nursing skills longer, Jaing, Prudii and A'den.

The ARC troopers did not turn up. Cov and his squad did not turn up. The other Fi with Riye and Sal did not turn up. I can see something is up but it is frustrating not to know any details. I can't beat them out of Kal or Walon which leaves Kom'rk as target of choice. Additionally, he is available for quite different forms of torture.

"If it pleases you."

We are out in the impossibly colourful woods, improving my aim with silenced blasters. In the best case, I will also silence the forest some by putting one of those noisy birds out of existence. That requires impeccable aiming and patience when the birds need to settle again after a shot was fired. So far my tally is a full zero. Kom'rk is not playing. He could silence the whole wood within heartbeats if he wanted.

"I think I'd be more pleased than tortured." His good mood can't be dampened.

I aim at something colourful and pull the trigger. A cloud of feathered nuisances takes of while something like a smouldering clump of redberries drops to the ground.

"At least this time you hit what you aimed at." Kom'rk pokes the smoking fruit with the barrel of his own blaster.

I agree with him, on both accounts. I did hit what I was aiming for, it just hadn't been a bird. And truth be told I had no idea how long I could resist jumping his bones. I'm not even tempted to try.

"Is it going to be the last secret you keep from me?" I ask.

His face is solemn. "That depends."

I sigh. He is right. I does depend. But not on me and not so much on him and very much so on Kal.

_Don't you trust him?_ A pesky voice speaks up in my head. I don't know what to tell it. He's my _ba'vodu_. But Kal is not perfect. And sometimes he does make it difficult for you to make your own decisions and be your own person.

It's just a few more days, I tell myself. Then the last of our clones will be done with the cure. I can wait that long.

Not that it gets any easier when suddenly Cov returns, pretending to be his whole squad. He does not want the cure. His results show that, indeed, he already had it. I wonder which of Kal's boys has been playing drug courier. Not that it matters much. I guess that even those clones that were not home are accounted for.

And then Fi returns as well, bringing Parja with him ans Riye and Sal who are sad that Bevin and Lance are still gone. I have no frelling idea what they are doing. But the two Centax clones are almost impossible to recognise. They look like real people with real lives ahead of them and a real idea what to do with it.

"Speeder specialist," Sal says. "Lots of test-runs." He grins from ear to ear.

"Beskar smith," Riye adds. "With my own smithy on Manda'yaim."

I wonder how they came to the decision not to stay with the clan. But then their ties are a lot less tight and their path into Mandalorian society as forced as can be.

Another pair of Mandalorians arrive. I recognise Jusik in his green armour and green eyes. The blonde woman at his side looks very at home in her armour as well. She gives me a smile and turns out to be Arla. She doesn't remember anything about her violent past and is happy to be the person she can be now. I am happy for her.

And suddenly the house seems as close to bursting as I am. Something is going to happen. Soon.


	67. Chapter 61

"We're all going to die," Kal says it with simple calm.

I put my arms around Kom'rk's waist. So that was it.

"We have left a trail of breadcrumbs for kyr'tsad to follow," Kal goes on, "and as expected they fell for it. At the same time the Empire found that there are a few things more important than a couple of renegades on Mandalore."

The way he looks at the Nulls when says that makes me wonder how much civil unrest one of them can create. Probably anything up to civil war. Clever.

"So we will grant those _aruetiise shabuire_ a victory, at a great cost, naturally." He lays down a plan that's scaring my pants off. But I have to trust him and the clan. If anybody can make this work, it is them. I bury my face against Kom'rk.

"We've done that before," he murmurs down at me. I remember, the Jedi. So that is what actually happened to them.

"We will bring Maze and Zey on board for this." Kal looks at Darman. "I understand if you want to leave before they arrive. It's perfectly fine. Just let me know, son."

All eyes come to rest on Darman in a heavy silence. Only Kad is unaffected, playing with a string of balls on Darman's lap.

"What about Altis?" Darman asks.

"No." Kal shakes his head. "This operation is only for clones and associates. But Jusik said he could do with a little help because it is a tricky operation."

Darman looks over to the one Jedi he trusts his life with.

"It's alright, _ner vod_," Jusik says.

We are a family and that means understanding. It means catering to our differences even if it hurts. It means getting hurt but working your way through. It's complicated and difficult and glorious and I would not give it up for anything.

Neither does Darman, obviously. "Only Zey then," he agrees, if tensely. His ability to discount Jusik and Scout completely as Mandalorians will never cease to amaze me.

Kal's relief is palpable. He loves them all too much. Even if it hurts, maybe especially if it hurts. We all chose our own kind of penance.

I decide that mine is to be that I shall take nothing with me from this place than what I wear on my body. I will die for real. There will be nothing left to trace. I don't quite understand why that feels important. I don't quite understand what it is penance for. I guess, it will come to me in time.

"Will Niner be back?" It is a legitimate question. Lance and Bevin are still with him, too.

"No." Kal shakes his head. There is another sorrow on his face. "He will protect the trail of breadcrumbs we left."

My thoughts go to the youthful face on the comm arguing with Niner and looking unhappy. Jalen Tavers, who moved Darman's sick room. Another sorrow for another time. That is what happens if you live, it's never predictable. I don't want to know how deeply Tavers got involved and what it will cost him in the end. Those things are never easy to know.

So I do not think of our neighbours on Rinn. If Tavers has been compromised, so might they. I don't feel guilty enough to want to go and help them. I feel more guilty about not feeling guilty.

"_Aliit sol'yc_," Kom'rk whispers into my ear.

I want to rub my ace against his shirt. This is the life I chose.

.

.

.

* * *

_Aliit sol'yc._ - Family first.


	68. Walon Vau: More Than Words

As plans went, this one was a little over the top, even for a _di__'__kutla_, _jare'la chakaar_ like Skirata. The old fool was going to bring the house down, literally. Then they would all be dead and buried. It was not a flawless plan. And there was no real intention to vanish from the surface of the galaxy either. But then, collapsing the new place on Krant over their heads was only one end of the whole operation.

The other end, or ends more correctly, were scattered all over the galaxy like burning embers kicked from a fire. And burn they did. The Empire was still young and vulnerable. It could not afford to ignore brushfires and internal squabbling. The Nulls could produce obviously a never-ending supply of that. Watching the holonet with an eye on where they had been recently was quite an education. It was no wonder that the Empire would not believe a mere six men could be the source of all of it.

That was the point. Keeping the Empire busy and giving it targets more important than clan Skirata. Vau could not quite shake the feeling that he was a part of that now, last name or no. Sometimes he wondered how that had happened. Sometimes he did not because a main reason for it was swinging her beskad at him wildly.

There was no denying how proud he was of her. Even if she had to hold on to the _beskad_ with both hands again. There was also no denying that he had missed her. Soft _shabuir_, he scolded himself. And he was right about that as well.

He had been more than soft on Delta who had repaid with slightly confused glances, half of them directed at Tera. They were wary of her for reasons Vau could only guess at. In return, Tera gave them space which was considerate but also putting a distance between her and Walon the old mercenary resented. It was a problem he would have to work out sooner or later. Because Delta would be back. All of them.

And then they would grow old. All of them. And rather unexpectedly, Vau would not inevitably see all of them die. That was also an unexpectedly good feeling. He did not get to have a father in the end, but he had gotten to be one. Or at least very close to being one. It did not compensate for his own lack. It did not always matter.

Vau had decided to take his personal family problems out with Tera first, but then Kom'rk had fallen ill and the girl was more of a ghost than a waif for several days. She probably didn't even notice that her own face was as grey as that of the Null. Even Mird had returned whining softly, unable to console her, unable to make himself noticed. If you could ignore a strill, things were truly bad.

And now this.

It spoke for the clan that nobody got their pants in a knot, not even Darman. Vau would have understood if the commando had legged it to protect his son. But he was back to his old standards. Instead it was Niner who had more or less hauled jets to protect some civilian family. Mereel would follow once the set-up was complete. If things went pear-shaped against all odds, at least he would still be around to dish out the cure to interested clones.

The projection shimmered over the table with all eyes glued to it as Skirata explained the drop points, protective nooks and cellars for the non-combatants. Considering they had to take out approximately a small army of Death Watch and assorted cronies, it was high-precision work.

"We will have hiding places outside as well," Kal zoomed around the projection. "But even with Bard'ika and Zey working at full force we have to be careful. Stay down. Don't move your _shebse_ until told to."

They even had bodies. It had been a long heated discussion and Vau had rarely seen Kal so enraged and beat. But what was the use of having the face of a million men when you could not utilise it in case of need? Fortunately, the Empire did not treat the clones and commandos any better than the Republic, especially after their demise. Getting bodies had been no problem and it had made it easier on the soft _chakaar_ that they did not have to turn them into dead meat first. Everything was prepared. Now they just had to wait for _kyr'tsad_ to follow their carefully crafted, not all invisible trail.

Skirata leant back, looking at the assembled men and women. "We are doing this together, as a family, for our family. _Aliit_." His eyes rested on the three men from Theta squad and the two Centax clones a little longer than on the others. "If you feel you are not a part of it, I am sorry. Because you are. _Aliit ori'shya tal'din_. If you want, you will always have a father in me."

That again. Vau was tempted to roll his eyes. Instead he watched the reaction of the commandos and Levet. Corr seemed unaffected, he had probably been there already. It was more difficult not to get an offer like that from Skirata when you were a clone and hung around for more than a day. He noticed Tera looking at him.

She had been leaning against Kom'rk with her whole body for most of the briefing. But now her head was slightly raised and tilted in his direction. She wore that look of contemplating difficult questions, the lips slightly parted, forehead slightly furrowed. But here yes were intent and on him.

Walon sent her a lopsided grin, half a shrug and a nod. It made her smile as she raised her shoulders and eyes in uncertainty.

Before Walon could reply to that without words, Skirata spoke again. "That means also you girls, you know that, right?" His eyes rested on his sons' assorted wives except for Parja.

Waifs and strays. Vau could probably count himself lucky that he was too old to be considered adoption material by Skirata. The man was unstoppable.

Laseema reached over and patted Skirata's arm with a broad smile. "We know, _Kal'buir_."

The old mercenary nodded and put his hand over hers. Looking around again his eyes came to rest on Sal and Riye who were caught up in their own considerations about the offer. When he looked at Tera her face lit up. The obviousness of her protective love for him should have hurt, but it did not. Walon had his flavour of that and Tera had enough to go around.

"You don't have to decide now." Skirata took the pressure out of the situation. It was a very public setting after all. "The offer stands."

The room erupted in shuffles and low murmurs. Walon could feel Tera's question coming to rest on him again. "Of course," he could easily discern her voice of the low din, "consider it. He's serious."

Fi was regarding the slim woman with thoughtful eyes. "And you?"

Tera sent a sideways glance in his direction. Walon knew she knew he'd listen closely, no matter how uninterested in anything but Mird he looked.

"I'm fine," she finally replied. "We already are family."

"But not adopted."

"No. Not that."

"Why?" Fi had formed his own opinion about Tera and one that entitled her to advise him on many subjects.

Tera seemed at a loss for words. How did you explain something like that, though? She shrugged, her forehead scrunching up in thought.

"What does it change?" Fi insisted. Riye and Sal turned their heads to listen as well.

"Everything," Tera said without thinking.

"Then why don't you?" Fi was visibly grappling with the concept.

"I don't want to be adopted by Kal," she said firmly. In the silence that followed her statement Walon gave thought to the words her intonation held.

"But why not?" Fi asked, oblivious of the impact her words had in general. Walon hid a smile that would have been considered smug, coming to his own decision on Tear's silent add-ons to her statement.

"It would make me Kom'rk's sister," Tera replied. It was a sleigh of hand for an answer but she kept a straight face.

So did Walon while, everybody seemed to exhale the collectively held breath. "Makes sense., he pitched in made a strategic pause. "_Ad'ika_."

She cracked a smile and looked down. She actually turned genuinely red. Walon wondered when the last time had been that he had had that effect on any woman.

"_Veman_?" She finally asked.

"_Haat, ijaa, haa'it._" He'd even give her the words right now if she insisted. Walon did not care.

But she didn't. Instead a grin spread over her face. "_Jate. Buir_." She looked as if she was about to explode.

He nodded, ignoring the surprised faces around them. Especially Kal's face was priceless and the number of open mouths definitely was bigger than that of closed ones. They'd given them quite a show. He allowed the smug smile to surface. There would be time for words in private later.

Looking at Kal, those words would also have to be had with him. It was amazing how you could surprise people with the obvious if you put it right under their noses for long enough. Walon returned to scratching Mird as if nothing had happened.

.

.

.

* * *

_di__'__kutla_, _jare'la chakaar – _stupid, reckless, criminal

_Aliit_. - Family, clan.

_Aliit ori'shya tal'din_. - Family is more than blood.

_Veman._ - Really?

_Haat, ijaa, haa'it. _- Truth, honour, vision. Words to seal a pact in Mando'a.

_Jate. Buir. _- Good. Father.


	69. Chapter 62

It was a most unguarded moment and a rash decision if I ever made one. But the superior smugness of Walon's face makes it alright. I don't think he likes doing anything as much as he does when he can get up in Kal's face with it at the same time. I am a little sorry for _ba'vodu_. But he knows I love him. I make sure he does.

When the meeting breaks up, I make sure he is the first person I go to. He's as huggable as ever and the firm grip makes me feel safe. "I can't give you up, _ba'vodu_," I say.

He squeezes me shorty and ruffles my hair with his free hand. "_Suvari, ad'ika. An jate_."

Does he know that those words can righten any wrong in the galaxy? Those words kept the horrors at bay. Those words gave me a place to be. In his voice they were a reason, _the_ reason to be. I don't want to let go. "_Draar diryci, ori'haat."_

When I look at at him, he smiles and wipes a tear from my cheek.

I don't want to die without him know how important he is. _"Ori'haat." _I find nothing else to say.

"_Kar'tayli_," He says. "_Bal gar nu'ven'ash'amu_."

"_Gar ven'n'ebin_." I still hold on to him tightly. "_Ni nu'duumi_."

He touches his forehead to mine and I know all is said and done. Still I wish there was some way to return all the good he did for me. I feel that all my life won't be enough. I wonder if the others feel the same way. I wonder if we feel it for each other and if that is what makes us unbreakable.

I look down at Mird who started chewing on my hand softly to get my attention. The grey tongue flicks out, splashing drool all over my fingers. He's cute. Like Walon he's death on legs, but the strill is just so adorable. I wipe my hand as clean as I can while petting him.

"You really like him," Jaing asks.

"Yeah." I make the heap of golden fur rumble happily.

"You want him when Vau dies?"

I swallow. That is unexpected. Not only because I do not want to think about Walon, _ner buir_, dying. Not even, nope, not at all. There's some people whose deaths are not an option. I look at Mird who squirms under my fingers and wonder why Jaing'd ask me something like that.

Finally I shake my head. "No. I mean," I meet Jaing's eyes because I want him to understand, "he's a Mandalorian hunting animal, right? And I'm not much of a Mandalorian and have no clue about hunting. He'd be wasted on me. Not to mention unhappy." I run my palm over the purring face, giving an extra rub to that spot between his eyes.

"You're shaping up good," Jaing replies. "He would not."

I hold his gaze. "Maybe." The I look back at Mird. "But still no. He doesn't belong with me."

Before I can try to explain better, Jaing puts a hand on my shoulder. "_Luubid. Jate_." He leaves and Mird's golden eyes follow him attentively. When the strill begins to pad after Walon's retreating figure I follow him. There are so many words crowding in on me tonight. But these I have bought upon myself with a reckless smile and unguarded words of my own.

Walon is not surprised to see me. He's smiling, too, and that still feels foreign. He's a guarded man. His face shows as many expressions as his _buy'ce_. But he is my _buir_ now and maybe that changes things. I do not know. I have no experience with this.

"You like a show, don't you?" I hoist myself up to sit on his desk.

"Just winding up Skirata a little."

"You like him."

"Possibly."

I dangle my legs and watch my feet for a moment. There are things that need saying, but right now I can't think of any. "I like him," I finally say looking up.

"Everybody can see that." He leans against the desk beside me.

"And I like you." I say it softer and lean my head against him.

Walon doesn't reply.

So I just sit, dangling my feet. He has no experience with this either.

"You asked Jaing to take care of Mird."

"Yes."

I nod, my face scratching against his shirt. "A good choice, he likes to hunt. But," I hesitate. I don't want to say things like that.

"But-?" He offers no explanation.

"Don't die, okay?" I take a calming breath. "Just don't."

He puts an arm around my shoulder and sighs. It is not a promise he can give. We both know that. I bite my lip.

"It doesn't get better," he says. "It will always be this hard."

I nod again, not sure if I dare bury my face against his chest in case I start crying and making a mess.

"But that will keep you fighting," he takes my chin and makes me look at him. "That will make you come out of the fight with the others dead. Not some stubborn pride in your work, not the fact that you are good at this, that you enjoy being good at it. You're not as cold as you claim."

I punch him softly. "Neither are you."

"Possibly." His smile is a blade and dares me to object. I know better. I'm a summer breeze and he is dry ice.

"_Ni k__yr'tayl gai sa'ad,_ Tera," he refutes his own claim.

"_Kar'tayli_." I slip my hand into his. "_Buir_." Then I can't help adding, "_R'aala munit ca'nara._"

"_Jare'la kih dala_."

"_Vor entye.__" _I close my eyes inhaling deeply. He is my _buir. _He knows me. He says the words I can bear._ "__Nu'gaigotalu ni dal'ika_."

"_Kar'tayli_."

His golden eyes are still hard, but they do not hurt. Sometimes being there is all you can do. I am good at that and time trickles by.

.

.

.

* * *

_Suvari, ad'ika. An jate_. - I understand, child. It's alright.

_Draar diryci, ori'haat. _- I will never let you down. I swear.

_Kar'tayli. Bal gar nu'ven'ash'amu_. - I know. And you won't die tomorrow.

_Gar ven'n'ebin_. _Ni nu'duumi_. - Neither will you. I don't allow it.

_ner buir. _- my father

_Luubid. Jate._ - Enough. It's okay.

_Ni k__yr'tayl gai sa'ad_. - I know your name as my child. Mandalorian adoption vow.

_Kar'tayli_. _Buir_. _R'aala munit ca'nara. - _I know. Father. I have know for some time.

_Jare'la kih dala_. - Reckless little woman.

_Vor entye.__Nu'gaigotalu ni dal'ika_. - Thank you. You did not call me dal'ika. (Term of 'endearment' used by Crimson)


	70. Walon Vau: More Words

"What," Skirata catches himself just before poking my chest with his finger, "was that?" He can't decide if he is more angry or more confused. That is quite a sight and I allow myself a little smirk.

"What did it look like?" Crossing my arms before my chest I lean back. I decide to go easy on looking down on him _like that_. He is flustered enough as it is. But I will not back down.

Considering the agitated state he is in, Skirata keeps his control by hiking his thumbs into his belt shaking his head. "Back there. You and Tera."

"It was not planned, if that is your question." I am torn between annoying the living shit out of him for fuck's sake and getting over with it fast and talk to Tera. But old habits die hard. And it's just too easy to yank his chain.

"But you adopted her."

"Not yet. But I plan to, yes." That is quite something for him to swallow. But he doesn't explode, doesn't rage. Instead he thinks. We have both come a long way in the short time since Kamino.

"Will you tell me why?" He doesn't mean here and now. He means 'how come?'. He doesn't understand it.

"Maybe. Sometime." I am surprised when that doesn't even faze him. "She's my niece."

Now that does get a reaction. He stares at me, his blue eyes sharp with intent. But try as he might, he cannot read me. Not if I do not let him. I shrug. "_Vor entye par ibac_, I guess."

"Similar to the one I owe you for the knife?" He hasn't forgotten. He never does.

"No." I shake my head. "Literally. For Tera, any time, anything. _Haat, ijaa, haa'it_."

He gives me a long speculating look. I shrug it off.

"Okay." He is handling it surprisingly fast. But there he is, nodding to himself. "I know you will take good care of her."

"That I will." I can't help the threat in my tone.

"She's a good kid."

"Not for much longer."

"Yeah." He looks past me wistfully.

"Can't be helped."

"No." He sighs. "Though sometimes I do wish."

"Who doesn't?" Not that I can see Tera as an innocent in a civilian word. She has been to violated to fit in. At least she knows it. That is a blessing. "But how long would they last?"

Nothing Kal could think of can refute this. He knows it. And the survival of the family is essential. We can live with the side effects. We have both grown up learning to do that. And now we both end up passing it on.

"Your sibling?" He asks, changing the topic.

"Unimportant." I put myself between Sheena and this kind of life. She deserved better; still does.

Kal accepts that. We have decided to live _cin vhetin_ but that doesn't entitle either of us to anything. "_Jate, __n__er vod._"

I am not sure who is more surprised when he pulls me into a short embrace. But it will certainly go down as one of the memorable moments in my life. I can also not quite shake the feeling he inwardly adopted me in Tera's stead.

We part being family. Something I definitely did not foresee when I recommended his sorry arse to Jango all those years ago.

.

.

.

* * *

_Vor entye par ibac._ - Thank you for that.

_Haat, ijaa, haa'it_. - Truth, honour, vision. Words to seal a pact.

_cin vhetin_ – fresh start, clean slate

_Jate, ner vod._ - Okay, my brother.


	71. Chapter 63

So this is the day I die.

It does not feel different from other days. Yet.

I curl up against Kom'rk. His hands are warm and reassuring on my skin. His heartbeat is a steady thrum against mine, faster if only by a thought. My doing, that. And even I can speed it up again only so much for so long. His breath is warm against my skin as well. I don't want to let go off him. But I have to. Because this is the day I die. It is also the day he dies. That is the possibility which worries me more of the two.

"You will be fine." He adjusts my back plate which is not strictly necessary, but gearing up is so much easier with two.

"No," I reply. "I will be dead. As I should be." I turn to smile at him. "But I shall haunt you forever. I promise."

We kiss because we are tense and that is something to do.

"Looking forward to that," he says finally.

Everybody is on edge. Our intel is great, but you can't really time an attack, even if you expect it. There is little left to do but wait. I sit with Qail for a while, sniggering about the information planted in the lab's computers. It will not harm people; we were adamant about that. But part of it is the 'cure' I gave the elderly Baron to keep him from ageing. Anybody trying that for immortality, anybody trying for immortality at all, deserves whatever he gets from that.

I do not want to live forever. I want to live. And I want to live now. With all the dangerous, difficult and breakneck things that entails. With all those crazy and hard people I call my family. I clip the helmet to my belt. How do you wait for the end of the world?

Most of us congregate in the main room. It's when the realisation hits me. This is not a small feud. This is no brawl among neighbours. This is not about keeping anybody from our turf and backs. Full out war, that's what it is. We are 25 armed bastards; we're an army in our own right.

And I am a part of it. Not the most important part, not the most capable part, but part of it nevertheless. As in Kyrimorut I will man the lab. I will make my last stand where I would want to, protecting my research and the future of my clan. I can do that. I would do that. I will do that.

And there I will die.

I wonder about how calm everybody seems. Maybe not all of us, but the majority of the clan are seasoned fighters. Even the clones, half my age in time, have more years of combat on their slate than me. This is nothing new to any of them. They have seen worse. They have done worse. And they did it for less.

Walon is petting Mird absently. Kal is playing with his three-sided knife. Jusik is kneeling in front of Kad, talking to him in a low insistent voice. Many of the faces around me are one face. And now they all wear the same expression. Calm, concentrated, competent. I feel like an impostor among them.

I tried to sit down, but I am happy I can at least control my urge to pace. Kom'rk slips his arm around my shoulders from behind. Gratefully, I lean against him. He is almost humming with anticipation. He's back to his normal self; fast, impeccable, deadly. And he is ready to fight. I have married a killer machine. I don't feel sorry.

There are no klaxons blaring, no red lights flashing and there certainly is no flurry of movement when it happens. A small 'ping' announces the arrival of our guests. Muscles are stretched, armour is adjusted, kisses are exchanged before helmets are put on.

I bounce mine off Kom'rk's a last time before he leaves for the perimeter and I take up my position in the lab. The last line of defence. I have been here before. But this time I will fail.


	72. Chapter 64

I have forgotten how much I hate this.

I crouch in the lab behind the makeshift barricade of desks and chairs. The computer is in an endless loop of pretending to destroy its data. The moment the house will collapse, it will stop and look conveniently as if it had been caught in the act. Jaing is a genius. He did also not make gloves from Mer'ika. Sometimes I feel he'd deserve it, but in a good way. I miss him. There are only few clones not present and he is one of them. It is a sensible precaution to deploy him elsewhere. Just in case we all miscalculated and do indeed get ourselves killed. I do not dwell on the possibility. We will not get ourselves killed. That is my truth. I will stick with it.

I can't hear the shooting yet. I know Cov is pretending to be four of his squad on the perimeter, mostly just manhandling the corpses.

I sit tightly and listen to the commands and chatter on our frequencies. There won't be chatter later. We are a well-staged play. I check my emergency niche for the umpteenth time. There is nothing else to do and I want to be sure I will find it when the red light starts to pulse over my HUD.

I had actual exercises doing this. I felt silly, but Kom'rk insisted and Kal insisted and Walon insisted. And I very much want to survive this. There is too much I didn't get to do in my life yet.

And I have a father now. I don't know how that is different from having _ba'vodu'e_ that save you any way possible and are willing to tear the galaxy apart on your behalf. But it is. That doesn't make it more important or less or stronger or weaker. Just different.

Family is more than blood, but it is blood also. I can see it between Kal and Ruu. And now I have blood of my own to call my own. Probably the only blood of my blood I will ever have.

Walon assures me that I do not want to know about the rest of the family. He has given me names and I have looked things up. I think he is right. I don't need the money and I can see no use for a title. I have claimed all titles that matter. _Ad'ika. Cyar'ika_. Ter'ika. One day I will claim _buir_ for myself. I smile, watching Kom'rks viewpoint icon for a while. He's on the second ring, ready to lure the attackers into the house itself.

Time ticks by slowly. I watch the number of icons dwindle as slowly. Each turning to green for a second before going out. Another down as planned. We are fighting a loosing battle. I just wish it was over already.

Then something starts humming. I am not sure if it is the ground. It might just be my bones. It is less of a noise and more of feeling, reverberating in my gut. I am not sure I can hear it. It does not stop the birds because those have already fled at the first fired shots.

"Is that a noise?" I ask Kom'rk.

He doesn't reply. All channels are silent as if listening intently.

"_Shab_." It's very soft. I think it's Levet. He's the last man 'standing' on the first ring.

"Cover!"

In the silence the word rings like a shout. I can see most of the icons flash into motion at the same time. They have realised something I have not. I wonder if it would be alright to ask or if that would be a lethal mistake.

The humming becomes pronounced. It certainly is a noise now. A noise throbbing through my body in a deep staccato. Only one thing comes to mind.

"Warship." Kom'rk's voice fills my _buy'ce_ with cold certainty. They brought air support.

I have no idea what size a ship would be that can actually work in atmosphere. It sounds big enough to simply land on the house and smash us all. I swallow and hold on to my blasters. They feel insignificant. They always looked like toys. What can they do against a ship? What can any of us do? I keep breathing. For the moment I can't think of anything else to do.

I want to ask Kom'rk or Kal or anybody really if we had planned for this. Were we prepared to take on a warship? Had anybody ever imagined it would come to this?

But I was afraid to distract anyone. It could kill them. Especially if we had not planned ahead for this. I certainly hadn't.

"We won't be able to draw them into the house," Ordo's voice comes over the dead frequencies. "They probably plan to take it down on top of us before starting the clean up.

"Copy that," Kal replied. He sounds deadly calm, a stark contrast to the hot anger he fights with.

"Prepare for impact."

A hit from a turbo laser shakes the house. I can almost feel parts of it turning red hot, the clinking of stone cooling down as glass high over the rumble of suffering walls. The fact that the building still stands says a lot about its intended function: a fortress. A home ready to withstand war. Somebody has at least been afraid that this might happen.

Then the walls stop shaking. I do not.

And then red douses my HUD, pulsing on and off softly. I spring into motion without thinking. The floor panel opens reluctantly, having its own issues with the air assault. I slip down into the comforting darkness.

As the panel slips back into place, I find my way down under the protective structure that will keep me from being crushed into pulp when the place collapses. Probably. I don't know if an air strike has been factored into those calculations. It is too late to worry about that now.

A deeper darkness descends as I turn of my kit. The display of the HUD dims down and the audio feed dies with it. There is only the darkness and me.

The ground shakes. Not once, not twice. It bounces and writhes around me, twisting under the staccato of the turbo laser batteries. I don't know if it is on purpose, to make it look real. I have no idea if things went according to plan. I cannot even measure time but by my racing pulse.

What if the ship reduced the plan and clan into rubble along with the house? What if there was nobody left to come and save me this time? How long would I lie here, waiting, hoping?

_Don't move your _shebs_ until you're told to._

What if the word never came? My kit was rigged so it could be remote triggered back to life. But what if that never happened? What if there was nobody left around to do that?

I can feel the house collapse. The ground heaves a sigh followed by an 'oof' as the air is forced out of it by the impact. My helmet muffles most of the sounds down to a shrieking, crushing roar. The air in my small sanctuary shifts. Then it settles heavily.

At least I would die in black. Wearing it, covered in it, hiding under it, encompassed by it. I wish I could tell Kom'rk again that I love him. But he knows.

There is another thud as the ground gives. It feels as if I drop for a good foot before coming to rest awkwardly on rubble. My check for injuries is cut short by the ceiling following suit. For a panicky second I can't breathe.

Then air rushes back into my lungs. My cramped muscles relax. I am still alive. The inventory of myself brings up no sharp pains. I am pinned uncomfortably, none of my limbs will move. I suppose my eyes still work but there is just nothing to see.

I wish I could tell Walon something. Anything. There are not many words between us, but still. I like the way he looks when I call him _buir_. I want to call _ba'vodu_. I want to present every single last clone to him on a silver platter to fuss over them for the rest of his life. I want to call Kom'rk. I want to feel his dark eyes on me, feel his skin warm under my hands.

With my eyes closed I can almost see it all. With my eyes open I can still see it framed against the darkness around. There is only black pressure around me, pushing at me from all sides like an ill-fitted exoskeleton. I listen to the silence fall with the last crumbling bits of stone. Then I wait.


	73. Chapter 65

Sometimes I know that the darkness is all there ever was. It is all there ever will be, as well. The blackness pressing in on me from all sides. Maybe I should be more afraid. But in the impenetrable darkness there is not a single streak of crimson.

That used to be important. I have chosen to fight red with black. I think, in the end, I won. I am not sure it matters as I lie pinned, breathing recycled air that grows staler with each breath. I do not have forever. That is okay.

Sometimes I know the darkness is only temporary. There are bright memories flashing against the backdrop of nothing. Strong men, men in armour, men full of love and purpose. My men, my family, _my_ purpose. If they are still alive they will find me. If they are not, nobody will come for me. That is okay.

I wait.

It is still dark later. I don't even know how much later. My heart has stopped racing long ago and time goes slowly. My eyes feel crusted and the air tastes old and rusty. How long have I been here? It doesn't matter. The oppressing darkness is still around. The ground is shifting softly. I keeps doing that.

I am dead.

The thought just occurs. I am now dead. Certainly officially, maybe truly. But definitely dead. Under which name should I rise from the remains of this? I do not know. I like my name. I like the way it sounds on Kom'rk's lips, tastes under his fingers. I do not want to lose that. I cannot imagine to replace it, no more than I can imagine replacing Kom'rk.

But I won't be Tera Nuh any longer, will I? How can I be a dead woman? And the name did feel foreign on me when Niner used it. But the other options taste strange. Tera Vau? Tera Skirata? Will I go under the name of my _buir_, _ba'vodu_ or _riduur_? Can I do either? Do I want to do any? The darkness holds no answer.

Suddenly the HUD flares into life. I feel blinded by the display and blink. Somebody is still there. Somebody is keeping up the other end of the operation. I still can't move. A beam of some kind seems to gut me gently, hindered in its progress mainly by the belly plate. Maybe it will be concave after this after all. I want to laugh but I don't know anything about Kom'rk yet.

Like the answer to my thought, the display shows me the stats of our battle. We are indeed all dead. Not one of us made it out alive. Prudii has broken a leg on top of that, Ordo won't be using his right arm for a while and Levet will have to breathe shallow for a week. But apart from being dead, none of us seems to have taken serious damage.

The darkness falls away in a curtain of black. I try to keep the tears behind my lids, they are bad for the electronics. I am not sure how well I succeed. The displays flickers and it might just be me blinking rapidly.

_Kar'tayli darasuum._

The message pops up silently in the upper right corner where Kom'rk's icon is no longer visible. My beacon is transmitting an all clear and no damage signal. Whoever is doing the extraction will get to me last. But I have time now. We all have time, even Kom'rk. I smile in the dimly lit helmet. It is time to go home.


	74. Chapter 66

Home.

It is not Kyrimorut anymore, but it is similar enough. We are on Mandalore again. Home. Manda'yaim. I don't want to live anywhere else. I don't think I'll have to.

Kal considered calling the new fortress Kyrimorut as well, but it really just isn't. It's not even close. We have put half the planet between us and it. Moving from the north all the way down into the south were winters are cold again as well.

The layout is similar, though. A central building where we will convene because we are drawn to each other. Smaller units connected to it by curved corridors to give privacy to the couples and families. Some of us moved out already. Cov and his men now live on their own farm not far away.

Others will follow. Like Ryie who plans to move closer Keldabe into a small town called Gorvhet, rich with _beskar_ and the associated trades. Silas and Fi are waiting for their diplomas and certificates enabling them to study and Jerem hangs around, generally waiting for inspiration to hit him. And then there is Niner who is positively glowing with the kid and her father at his side. I don't think he'll be around much longer either.

But for now we are here.  
Safe and sound.  
Home.

There's clones milling about everywhere. The kitchen abounds and most of them get evicted with determination every now and then by Ny or Laseema or even Corr. Messing with the food is not appreciated.

I lean my head against Kom'rk who is playing cards with Atin, Bevin, Prudii and A'den. I scratch Mird behind the ears absently. The strill's head is resting on my lap and I feel comfortably grounded. Even the table is back, the one I have been missing. I will probably forgive my two Ks for letting me think it was lost.

I watch the chaos lazily. They are being normal, which might just be a very new experience for the clones. They have been on borrowed time for so long, all their lives actually. But no more. I cannot suppress my smile. Nobody in the whole galaxy will ever know about my greatest triumph, my biggest scientific achievement and break-through. Research worth millions is buried deep and I don't know where. Except in the heads of the Nulls, but you would be more successful extracting it from the Maw Cluster. It is safe. And I am safe. And they are safe. As safe, as we get. And what more can you expect?

We called the house _Mirjahaal_. I don't know how much I will see of it. I cannot imagine, even now, to just stay behind and watch Kom'rk march off into danger, death, and destruction. Not even when I know that he will be the one dealing it out more often than being on the receiving end. But he has to win all the time. The others have to win only once.

I put the thought out of my mind. Not today. Today we celebrate. Tomorrow we will go back to making the galaxy a better place for those we care about.

I wake up in the morning bedraggled and half afraid until I realise the bulk of Kom'rk beside me. _Riduur. Cyar'ika._ Lifeline. Mine. Maybe he is still asleep. He just might. It is the adjustment to the slower metabolism. It's alright. He's beautiful. The stark, dark stubble on his chin, the fine lines around his eyes. Maybe I will not restrain myself and touch his face; run my fingers over his skin. Maybe I cannot stop myself, my lips grazing his skin. And maybe he will wake up. The dark eyes full of sleep and a smile when he realises it is me pulling him from sleep and not a nightmare. His hand will reach up to touch my face or shoulder or skin and when I bend down to kiss him. And the world will wait.

Or maybe I just slip out of the bed and into the kitchen. I know what he likes for breakfast and it coincides gracefully with my own preferences. I could throw together some pancakes, juice, jam. The smell of it would certainly wake him up.

I don't know if I want to wake him up. I feel like I don't know anything. But his bulk is reassuring beside me and everything else can wait. We have come so far. And now we have all the time in the world. All the time that normal people have. I close my eyes and curl up against him satisfied.

The world can wait.


	75. Kom'rk: Epilogue

Nobody had told him that life would be so wonderful.

Kom'rk felt as if he had finally slowed down enough to actually live it for the first time since his creation. Knowing his accelerated ageing had stopped might have had something to do with that. Knowing that the war was over for good for them now, might as well.

Knowing he would spend the gracious amount of it with the slim figure beside him was a bonus. It did not matter that they did not share a name, they shared everything else. And he did understand her motives. Honouring a parent was a powerful motivator. Kom'rk knew all about that.

He had Kal'buir whom he loved as fiercely and protectively as Tera. For the longest time Skirata had been the only person apart from his brothers who he trusted completely ever since he had stepped between them and oblivion on Kamino. _Kal'buir_ had given him almost everything, even Tera.

But there was one thing he could not give. One thing that the tiny person at his side had brought. One thing Kom'rk had never thought possible to harness: time.

It was another memory carefully stored away with the good ones she had promised him. One of the best disregarding the physical ones. Her slim figure shimmering in blue through the galaxy from Kyrimorut. He had been able to see the excitement in her eyes even with the horrible quality of the transmission.

"We have it."

Three words that had changed his life forever. It had been one of the more intense reunions and those memories mingled up inextricably with the message itself. His _cyar'ika_. His wife. His life.

He could not suppress a smile as he looked down at her. She smiled back, her hair damp with sweat, clinging to her skull and her face red with exhaustion. The black armour made her appear even smaller than she was. Her helmet bounced against her side as she rose on tiptoe, punching his chest plate gently.

"_Ni cuy naysh shi o'r gar mird_." Her expression showed that she knew where his thoughts lingered.

"_Ratiin_." He put a gloved palm against her cheek. She was shaping up well. Of course she would never be as good a fighter as those who started at a young age as it should be. That she would never be able to rival him or any of his brothers had always been a certainty. It did not trouble Kom'rk any longer.

"_Ke'pare 'kay ni ven'gana ner gaane bat gar,_" she threatened. It was a threat she made often and one she usually made good on as well. Something to look forward to. His hand left a dark smudge of dirt on her cheek.

"Ready to move on?" He indicated the white plain ahead. She was an easy target on it, but she knew it. And she had learnt that seeing a Mandalorian coming and stopping him were two very different things. No, he did not worry about her. She was as _mandokarla_ as they came.

"_Ge'tsikala_." Her hands shot up and before he reacted, she had pressed the seals of his helmet. The air was cold on his face when he lowered himself into half a crouch so she could remove the _buy'ce_. She dropped her arms behind his neck, holding on to his head with one hand and his helmet with the other.

Kom'rk straightened up again slowly, lifting her easily as she buried her face against his. He had all the time in the world for distractions like this now. His arms held her tightly, keeping her from slipping down. Perfection was a point of view. He certainly had his.

.

.

.

* * *

_Ni cuy naysh shi o'r gar mird._ - I'm not just in your head.

_Ratiin_ - always

_Ke'pare 'kay ni ven'gana ner gaane bat gar. _- Wait until I get my hands on you.

_Ge'tsikala_. - Almost ready.


	76. Walon Vau: Epilogue

Death Watch now, he had no problem putting them out of their misery. _Shabla hut'uune _all of them. They made good adversaries because they had the same equipment. It was a challenge you didn't often get. And they had messed up his life and that of his family often enough. This was where he drew the line: no more.

A thin black shadow followed him, as much a comfort as a worry. Tera

She loved to give back some of the pain she had received. And over time her methods had become as precise and impeccable as his own. She'd never become a decent sniper, though, considering that most acceptable guns for that were taller than her and she had trouble moving them around fast. But her blasters spoke in a quick staccato, leaving nobody standing to return the argument.

It was satisfying to know that one day the blasters he handled now would be held by her, the pearl inlay smooth against her palms. They'd complement her kit gracefully. Walon tried not to think of the diamond piece, sitting on her chest like the crest of ancient honour.

Riye had worked it for her. Had worked it for the day she had claimed her name which was not his. He was proud of her, but that day would stand out forever nevertheless.

"What was her name?" Tera had turned the ring over in her hands, the diamonds set into it letting the light shine though.

"Sheena of Gesl." The name did not hurt Walon any longer. Not now that he had her daughter, his daughter.

For a moment, Tera put the ring on her finger. It looked right in a way he could not place and wrong in a way he did not. It was Tera's decision not his. When she took it off again, he could feel relief flood him, but also anxiousness. To what conclusion would she come? They were two people still, would always be.

"It will catch in a glove, won't it?" Her voice is wistful. But she knows her kit and her life. Rings are not a factor in it.

"It would." He confirmed.

"A pity." Her eyes come to rest on him. It is not a question this time. "_Ori'vore_._ Kar'tayli gar baati ori par ibic_."

"_Haat. A'cuy gar shi._" He had smiled as he had closed her hand around it.

He had smiled again when he had seen it sparkle on her kit. A splendid idea and not one he would have come up with. But now she carried her heritage close to her heart and for all to see.

Riye had worked another miracle for her. Every clone felt that he owed her something and if she ever came around to asking for something, she got it. Tera might be surprised and touched. Walon was not. She had saved them all.

The ring sat at a slight angle, allowing the light to catch in the diamonds set into it. It was the only highlight in her black-on-black armour.

"Mine." She clasped her hand over it. "_Vor entye_."

"_Ba'gedte'ye_." The words were easy on his lips.

As easy as signalling her to veer off and come upon the enemy from the side. Silently the black of her glided away. The would be the only ones making it out of here alive. Grim satisfaction settled over Walon.

Daughter.

_Ad'ika_.

The thought filled Walon with a pride very different from what this achievement with the clone commandos derived. That had been professional. This was personal. And it wasn't a problem any longer, but it more than certainly was his.

.

.

.

* * *

_Ori'vore. Kar'tayli gar baati ori par ibic._ - Thank you very much. I know it means a lot to you.

_Haat. A'cuy gar shi._ - True. But it is still yours.

_vor entye_. - Thank you.

_Ba'gedte'ye._ - You're welcome.


	77. Epilogue

Kyr'tsad now, I love putting them out of their misery. And Walon never forgets to take me along when the opportunity arises. I love him for that among many, many other things. Mird is moving beside him, his hunting pose slightly ridiculous on the six-legged frame covered with folds of golden fur. But he is as deadly as any weapon.

I can recognise the signal Walon gives with his hand, not even having to enlarge his viewpoint icon. I am getting really good at this. I like it. It is welcome change from days spent in the lab. So I move out in the indicated direction. Those _shabuire_ have no idea what they have gotten themselves into.

Mandalorians have been in fractions before. That I know now. But at the moment the line falls almost inevitably on the one detailing Imperial loyalties. Setting up some kind of base from which to operate is not a clever thing. You do not cooperate with the Empire if you don't want to have clan Skirata sneak up on you one day. Most people don't want that. We a re a big clan, a strong clan.

And we are still growing. I think of Kom'rk who is on the other side of the galaxy, probably standing in a hailstorm of blaster fire. Another difficult extraction of clones that had enough of their Imperial slavery. There are many competent volunteers for missions like that. I am not very happy about Kom'rk going and risking his life but not as unhappy as I would be if he was because he didn't go. And I am here, now, knowing that he feels the same.

Maybe he will die. Maybe I will die. But if I do, there is nothing I have to worry about. And if he does, I can tackle that, when it comes to pass. And until then I will live and fight in the certainty that we will see each other again at Mirjahaal.

I spend more time there than he does. The growing clan brings the same face again and again. I am busy making their ideas of being different come true. I have been there lifetimes ago, changing the looks of humanity. I am at it again, but now it feels more rewarding than ever.

And I know that one day Kom'rk will return from a battle with a child clinging to his leg and it will not matter what shape or age because it will be ours. And we will finally be a small family inside a big family. A very big family. We could not stay together. The clan did not actually break apart. But people moved into different houses, not too far from each other. It was unpredictable at time like fault lines, invisible until we moved.

Niner left completely, taking Bevin and Lance with him to Centares. Tavers&Tavers is probably one of the most profitable companies there now and will not run out of business as long as Mandos need transport. They are reliable and trustworthy. They are our own even if not Mandalorian per se. It is not called 'Tavers&Tavers Logistics' any longer either but had 'and special needs' added. Special needs that's us.

Kal was heartbroken at first, but one glance at Niner with Aileen at his side made everything alright. _Ba'vodu_ wields a possessive love, but it's so strong that he has to let go for the happiness of his sons. And the galaxy is not that big for people with fast ships. Force knows we own enough of those. We own enough of everything. I feel privileged to want nothing but time to live with those I love.

My name is Tera Gesl and this is my life.  
I love it.


End file.
